


Sorrel, Gardenia, Hyssop

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Fantasy AU [2]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, M/M, Mentions of past noncon, Polyamory, Prostitution, Shapeshifting, Soul Bond, Threesome - M/M/M, mentions of past consensual incest, mentions of past underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 51
Words: 352,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: "O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;But O heart! heart! heart!O the bleeding drops of red,Where on the deck my Captain lies,Fallen cold and dead. " -Walt Whitman, O Captain My CaptainFantasy AU Sequel.





	1. Chapter 1

Captain Arashi of the Western Army, Lord of the Sharps, stalks through the Capital Palace with murder on his mind.

 

He seeks his quarry, shoulders back, head high, until he sights it, a lone man resolutely ignoring practice with the rest of the Kingsguard, hovering on the edge despite the Captain’s badge on his chest. Silver hair that swept in a tail down his back was unmistakeable, though, and Arashi walked up, put on a smile, said, “Hello!” in a cheerful voice, then punched Izumi of the Sena house, Lord of the North, in his stupid smug face.

 

It’s a _miracle_ that Izumi doesn’t hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

 

He comes close, toppling backwards like he’s been hit by a fully grown Northern horse, but he doesn’t fall, perhaps courtesy of how many hits he’s taken from this particular man in the past. “What the fuck!” he snaps, spitting blood, pretty sure a tooth along with it, which he knows will hurt like a bitch when it decides to wriggle its way back into place later. “Fuck you, if you’re going to hit me, skip the face! The _hell’s_ gotten into you, you bitch! Is this how you greet me after months?” At least Arashi looks good. Izumi doesn’t _mind_ being punched by someone handsome.

 

“I followed your advice,” Arashi snarls, shoulders set in a tense fighter’s stance. “About love being the only thing that matters, don’t fake it if you don’t feel it, love will find a way--bullshit! My ministers are suing the crown to have me _removed_ from _power_!”

 

Izumi pauses at that, wiping at his bloodied mouth. A couple of his men watch, tense and concerned about their captain being punched (for good reason), but he dismisses them with a wave of a hand. “This is sparring,” he says, an obvious, bald-faced lie as he looks back at Arashi warily. “You _could_ have fucking mentioned any of their previous attempts to make you wed before it came to this, and we _could_ have dealt with it,” he snaps. “Instead, you’re waiting until it comes to this? Arashi, what I _said_ was that we’d figure it out, but if you don’t tell me that they’re pushing you that hard, I can’t help you!”

 

“Help me how?” Arashi demands, lurching forward, aiming another hit at Izumi. “Now I have to do what they say _and_ they’re all angry at me, so fix this!”

 

Izumi ducks, backing away rapidly. “Don’t I always figure it out?” he snarls. “Stop fucking trying to hit me and _listen to me_ —damn it, we can’t talk about this here, can you calm down for five seconds enough to sit at a table and talk with me? Or I’m going to start punching _you_ in the face and I won’t heal it!”

 

Arashi forces himself to relax, breathing hard, eyes still blazing with fury. “Fine,” he says shortly. “Fine. But it has to be fast. They’re on my heels.”

 

“So your first thought was to come and punch me?” Izumi exasperatedly says, daring to grab Arashi by the arm and haul him away. “We saw that missive come across His Majesty’s desk this morning, but you _know_ they still can’t do anything to you for six months, right?” he hisses underneath his breath. “Calm down, you idiot; why are you always like this, _tell_ someone about your fucking problems!”

 

“I hate whining about real problems,” Arashi mutters, not meeting Izumi’s eyes, letting himself be led. “I didn’t want Mika to get nervous that I’d get rid of him, he gets that way when I talk about getting married, starts thinking he’s useless. And...I thought it would work out. Like you and Leo.”

 

“It’s not whining, it’s just _telling_ ,” Izumi flatly retorts. He stops short, turning around to face Arashi and grasp both of his hands. “Do you know why Leo and I worked out? Because we have _children._ ”

 

Arashi clenches his jaw, somehow managing not to crush Izumi’s hands in his own. “You made me think we’d figure it out. I--shit, I’m still young, I didn’t think it would move this fast.”

 

“Yes, I said we’d figure it out, but it would have _helped_ if you had told me it had gotten to this point,” Izumi flatly insists. “I can’t help you if every damned time we talk, you don’t mention it. You just need an heir, not a wife, especially with Leo’s new laws.” His voice drops to a hiss of a whisper. “You know I said I’d even fuck a woman for you if you wanted me to, but you have to tell me _when._ ”

 

“Doesn’t work,” Arashi says glumly. “Some local tradition, they’ve got some witch that can test paternity. And I’m being sued under local laws, so I _do_ need a wife. But good try, though.”

 

“See, telling me that would have been helpful three years ago.”

 

“I didn’t know about this stupid rule three years ago!” Arashi snarls, letting go of Izumi’s hands. “They kept sending women at me, but I didn’t know there was any kind of time limit!”

 

“All right, all right, just…let’s talk with Leo about this,” Izumi firmly says, turning around with a shake of his head. “He should hopefully be able to slow this whole mess down a bit more. Where’s Mika, by the way? Did you leave him behind in your desperation to punch me in the face?”

 

“I haven’t seen him in four months,” Arashi says, shoulders drooping even farther. “He had to go train up some baby necromancer they found in the desert.”

 

“Ah. So that’s why you’re like this.” Izumi gingerly lifts a hand, rubbing at his jaw and feeling where his tooth has probably already grown back, at least. “Then we’ll get this squared away before he returns and sees you acting like a damned fool.”

 

He leads Arashi down the hall, nodding to a pair of guards posted outside of Leo’s office door before he knocks, and then promptly lets himself in. “Your Majesty,” he drawls, offering a bow at the door. “We have a guest, relating directly to that letter received not four hours ago.”

 

“Ah, the bachelor miscreant!” Leo is at least looking up, though he _is_ sitting on the top of his chair’s back, tilting side to side, unconcerned. The desk and walls are littered with musical notes, under rather tidy stacks of important-looking papers. “Bring him in, I wanna tell him he’s stupid before we find him a nice lady wife.”

 

“Hello, Your Majesty,” Arashi says wearily, drawing the door closed behind him. “I don’t want a lady wife.”

 

“Then you need a bastard, and a lovely smile to convince your constituents that a bastard is just as valid if they want you to be wed,” Izumi grinds out, turning on Arashi again to scowl up at him. “Because you neglected this for so long that you’ve made it very difficult for me to help you! The only other thing I can think of is to promise you one of my daughters, but that’s just _strange_ at this point, and it’ll only buy you—what, seven, eight years? Before I have to kill you.”

 

“Nonsense,” Leo says with a sigh, and puts his feet up on the desk, ignoring the fact that physics seem to hint that such a thing is impossible. “Arashi, it’s a great thing to want to be free, but this is your choice. I’ll protect you from retaliation or execution if you choose to ignore your duty, but I won’t stop your councilors from stripping you of your position and sending you into exile.” He raises an eyebrow. “Your status is a public office. There are duties attached. That’s final, do as the law commands or be stripped of it. You can do as I did and take a concubine if you like, but you _did_ sign this contract.”

 

Arashi’s mouth drops, and he stares at Leo, then at Izumi. “I...fine,” he grumbles, settling into the seat across from Leo, slumping to the side. “Izumi. Can you teach me how to have sex with a woman?”

 

“Why don’t you agree with me so easily when I suggest things like ‘having sex with women’?” Izumi deadpans, pushing some of Leo’s paperwork aside to sit on the front edge of his desk, arms crossed. “But sure, I’ll teach you how to have sex with a woman. Turn them over, imagine it’s Mika. So I guess the first step is finding you a tiny wife with long dark hair.”

 

“I like men that look all kinds of ways,” Arashi mutters, sliding down deeper into his chair. “I love women, you know. I just--when it’s time to, you know, it doesn’t work. In the West, weddings are consummated with witnesses. And if that happens, the wedding is null and void.”

 

“I’ll be your witness, then,” Izumi sniffs. “Or if they won’t allow that, invite me to your wedding, you ass, and I’ll make sure you’re so riled up before you go to stick it in her that there’s no way it’ll get soft. You know, you’re not the first lord that’s _only_ liked men. I know, I’ve tumbled more than a few.”

 

“Can we....practice first?” Arashi asks, feeling guilty about it. “With a paid girl, maybe? A nice one, and we’ll tip her well, you know? To keep her silent?”

 

“So, I feel like this isn’t really a matter for the King anymore,” Leo says dryly.

 

“Oh, hush, you, we’re helping,” Izumi grouses, fluttering a dismissive hand in Leo’s direction. “Of course we’ll practice first, do you think I’d let you embarrass yourself? We can talk to Kasa, I’m sure he knows some lovely women for that job. I mean, of course he doesn’t, he only ever lays hands upon the king’s beautiful little sister.”

 

“If he lays hands on her a second before they’re married, I’ll duel him myself,” Leo growls. “Also, even after they’re married, I expect them to avoid touching for at least a year.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds real.” Izumi turns wearily back to Arashi, and his expression shifts uncertainly. “You don’t think this has been aggravated because all of the deals between the West and North, do you? People talk about Leo and I all the time, but it’s been fairly quiet about the two of us, I thought. My mother _would_ tell me otherwise.”

 

Arashi shrugs. “Hard to say. People talk about everything in the West. Gossip is basically trade there. But no one takes that much of it seriously...I think.”

 

“I’ve heard some,” Leo says cheerfully. “No sexy ones like the ones about us, though. All yours are that you’re soooo grateful for your position that you’re not going to fight the Capital or the North because of trade deals.”

 

“Heeh, is that how it is? Nice, then I won’t feel bad about asking you to lick my boots. Don’t hit me,” Izumi swiftly adds, scooting further down the desk away from Arashi.

 

“I’m sorry for hitting you earlier, all right?” Arashi snaps. “I’m just--I haven’t seen Mika in four months, and then this came across my damn desk...ugh.”

 

“Yes, yes, we’re all big babies about getting married,” Leo says cheerfully. “Try to pick a woman you like and give her a lot of power, then she won’t hate you forever. I’ll be your source on that, my father did give me _some_ advice.”

 

“And yet your mother still kept trying to crawl into my bed, and still does,” Izumi deadpans, hopping off of Leo’s desk and grabbing for Arashi’s hand. “So that means that ultimately, you probably won’t ever have to sleep with her again once you get at least one kid out of her. Think positively, Arashi. Up with you, come on. Let’s go drinking and leave our king all alone to work.”

 

“Wait, no, free me, take me drinking,” Leo pleads.

 

“No, no, that’s not a matter that requires a king, you said it yourself.”

 

Leo slowly pitches forward, head thunking against the desk. “I hate you both, go have fun and drink extra for me. Come back tonight when I’ve gotten rid of some of this really stupid paperwork.”

 

“You better clear off the desk before too long,” Izumi says, taking Arashi by the arm to lead him from the room. “How am I supposed to toss you over it when I’m drunk and stupid?”

 

It doesn’t exactly pan out like that, of course.

 

Izumi is as drunk as he’s able to be, and Arashi is arguably worse when they finally stumble home to the palace in the dark of night, and Izumi tries to blearily make his way towards his bedroom. “We,” he says, face nuzzled into Arashi’s neck, “will _absolutely_ get you a woman tomorrow. And it’ll be good. I’ll _make_ it good, because I’m good. Arashiii, you smell really—“

 

“Izumin? _Kara?_ ”

 

His own chambers are deliberately close to the palace baths, which results in a still rather damp, steaming Mika stepping out from them just as they approach. Those large, mismatched eyes blink back at them from behind the messy, dripping flop of his hair, and Mika lowers his towel from his head. “I thought I’d have t’travel all the way back West before I got to see you again,” he breathes. “ _Kara_ , I’ve missed you soo much, I—“

 

“Yeah, bye, my room’s all yours,” Izumi says with a pat to Arashi’s back, releasing him as he turns around, course swiftly turning to make it towards Leo’s chambers instead.

 

Arashi runs, his limbs forgetting he’s drunk the second he sees the entirely-too-welcome sight of Mika. He crosses the scant distance in a single step, grabbing Mika in his arms, twirling him around. “ _Amaka_ ,” he gasps, head spinning as much as the rest of him, squeezing Mika a little tighter than he’d let himself, if he were sober. “Mika, my darling, ugh, you’re so _pretty_ \--”

 

Mika squeaks, clinging to Arashi’s neck and trying not to kick his legs too hard, no matter how it’s reflex when he’s scooped up and spun like that. “ _K…Kara_ —you’re squeezin’ real tight,” he manages, frantically tapping at Arashi’s back. “You’re gonna make me pop. W-why are you in th’ capital, I thought there was a thing where you had to stay in the West and stuff…”

 

“Ask me again in five minutes,” Arashi groans, pulling back to stare at Mika hungrily, like a man who’s smelled food for the first time in a week. “After I get a chance to look at you a little bit, you’re like water for my eyes and I’m so thirsty.”

 

“O-oh.” Mika’s cheeks flush, pleased, and he dangles contently from Arashi’s neck, staring back at him. “If that’s the case, Milord, I’d be happy to quench that thirst,” he cheerfully says. “Y’can keep danglin’ me like this, my feet don’t need t’touch the ground for _awhile._ ”

 

Arashi doesn’t bother setting Mika down, only pressing kisses to his face over and over, and then again for good measure. “I’d do damned anything for you, you know that, right?” he asks softly.

 

“U-um, yeah? Likewise…but, ah… _kara_ , this is the capital, y’know, we should probably use Izumin’s room if we don’t wanna get yelled at,” Mika nervously says, even though he makes absolutely no attempt to pull away. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble…”

 

Arashi growls low in his throat, then drags Mika into Izumi’s room and pulling Mika onto his lap. “There, now we’ve got safety. So let me look at you.”

 

“Done,” Mika happily says, shedding the towel from his hair in short order, and letting his robe drip low down his shoulders as he firmly nestles into Arashi’s lap. “You’re all tense. Who’s been takin’ care of you for the past few months? They suck.”

 

“No one, and I’m going to fire them all.” Arashi rests his chin on Mika’s head, petting him gently. “I have to get married, _amaka_. Like, immediately. I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh.” The word, no matter how inevitable, still ring sourly in the air. “To who? Is she pretty?”

 

Arashi shrugs. “Haven’t picked one yet. I’m sure she will be, all girls are pretty enough in my eyes. It’s...just a stupid law that I have to follow, it doesn’t mean I love you _any_ less.”

 

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” Mika grumbles, _trying_ not to be moody about it, and struggling more and more as the seconds tick by. “Not right now. I’ve been in the middle of nowhere for months, dealin’ with a kid that ain’t even got lil’ ghosties like me, and I jus’ wanted to come here and see Izumin, but got you instead, but now _this_.” He huffs, staring up at Arashi. “You don’t even get hard around girls, it ain’t gonna work.”

 

Arashi stares balefully at Izumi’s empty bed. “He was supposed to help me with the laws,” he growls. “But he didn’t. So I’m stuck with this. King said so. Ugh, can I please still cuddle you? I’m absolutely denied...”

 

The stare continues. “You’re drunk, haven’t seen me in four months, and you jus’ wanna cuddle me? _Kara_ is so pure…no wonder women are too much for him…”

 

“Yes, that’s it,” Arashi agrees, taking one of Mika’s hands in his own, then bringing it to his mouth to kiss it. “It’s because of my purity. Just bear with me for a moment, will you? I’m not in any sort of a mood for anything else yet.”

 

“Lie back, and let me use you as a big warm pillow, then,” Mika grouses, his brow knitting grumpily. “Nn, I don’t like this, if _you_ made kids, I wouldn’t get to be their mama. And you’d have to be in the West even more, but Izumin’s kids are in the North, and I…” _Can’t keep going back and forth even if your wife didn’t mind me being around, that’s a lot._

 

“I could give it up.”

 

The words are quiet, and Arashi seems to shrink in on himself. “I could stop being Lord, stop being Captain. Come North and wait there for you and Izumi to come home to me when your duties are done.”

 

“That’s silly,” Mika mutters, twisting in Arashi’s lap to straddle it and better stare him down. “You worked so hard, don’t do that. No,” he says more firmly, draping his arms around Arashi’s shoulders. “You’re not allowed to do that.”

 

“I had to offer,” Arashi says numbly. “Otherwise I’d be awful, wouldn’t I? Ahhh, I should have stayed a carpenter’s son--I should have run away and become a jewelry-maker like I wanted to when I was a little kid, or left with caravan of performers that came through every year. Could you see me as a juggler?”

 

“Nope, you like swingin’ a sword around too much.” Mika sighs at him and lifts his hands, petting Arashi’s hair gently. “ _Kara…_ I don’t like it, but I’m not dumb. It was gonna happen no matter what, as far as I could see.”

 

Arashi steals a kiss from Mika’s lips, then drags him further into his lap. “I have about six months to figure out how to make love to a woman. You ever done that?”

 

“Yeah.” Mika’s expression shifts wry, his fingers lacing around the back of Arashi’s neck. “But you don’t wanna hear about it. I dunno, it ain’t hard, but doin’ it with men…that’s better. I like the way men smell.”

 

“Do you? Mm, I suppose it’s certainly a sexier smell,” Arashi muses, leaning in and stealing a slow, warm kiss from Mika’s lips, mulling over the taste. “But so many of them smell--”

 

A rap sounds at the door, followed by a guard’s voice. “I was told I could find Lord Arashi and His Excellency Mika here,” the voice says. “The King has need of you, Milords.”

 

“I can blow up anyone that interrupts us,” Mika moodily says, lurching forward to kiss Arashi again, longer and deeper with a drag of his teeth against his lower lip. “And Rei would pay for it.”

 

The rap comes again, louder this time.

 

Arashi grunts, wrapping his arms around Mika, less tightly than before now that most of the alcohol has faded from his system. “I hate this. Gross, I just _saw_ the king.”

 

“Milords!”

 

“Coming!” Mika snaps, irritated enough to raise even _his_ voice. He grabs Arashi by the shirt to kiss him again, sucking on his tongue. “I don’t wanna see the king at all, he’s like a wiggly lil’ squirrel,” he growls, sliding a hand down to grab at Arashi’s laces even though he _knows_ this can’t go much further. “So what I _meant_ by sayin’ I think men smell better—men like you, and Izumin, y’all are both all clean even when you get sweaty, it’s sexy.”

 

Arashi groans, and grabs Mika between his legs, hands squeezing his slender thighs almost hard enough to bruise. “Later,” he promises, lifting Mika off his lap, standing him up as he does his laces back up. “Come on, the sooner we do this, the sooner we get to come back.”

 

“This ain’t fair, and I ain’t bein’ nice to him for interruptin’,” Mika lowly growls, huddling down into his robe and looking as cross as he ever has. “For the next week, I’m gonna set it up so a guard comes to his room every fuckin’ time he and Izumin try to do it, and they gotta stop to do stupid important king business.”

 

Arashi leads Mika past the guard, to whom he offers a frosty glare, and to Leo’s chambers. “Can I ask,” he says with a sigh, gliding past the guards on the doors, “why you must interrupt our first meeting in four mon--oh, hello, Izumi, try to keep a leash on him.”

 

Leo looks up, eyes serious, and Arashi regrets his outburst immediately, looking down at his feet. Fortunately, Leo doesn’t seem to mind. “Have a seat, please? I’ve got some troubling news from the Sandlands that I need to deal with immediately. I need Mika’s advice.”

 

Mika exhales a low, grumpy sound, and drops himself down into the nearest chair, folding up down into a tiny ball. “What, they sent you a missive in sand tongue?” he asks tiredly. “I’ve been travelin’ all day, I don’t wanna translate.”

 

“Were it that simple, we would’ve made sure this waited until morning,” Izumi apologetically says, looking far more sober than he ever wants to be.

 

Izumi’s face makes Arashi stand a little straighter. “Apologies for my lateness, then. What can we do to help?”

 

“Southern Royalty--the ones they call the Sand Lords--have declared the Sandlands independent of the Crown,” Leo says quietly, laying out a map. “They’ve seized control of the major trade routes, and have captured several entire towns between my borders and theirs. They’ve killed several of my spies. And from what I’ve heard, they’ve sold everyone that survived into slavery. Obviously, I can’t let this continue.”

 

“You’re gonna want to talk to Rei,” Mika dismissively says, almost too-quickly. “He’s friends with the Otogari, one of the big names in royalty down there. If they’re involved, he can help you.”

 

“Yes, he’s on the way,” Leo says, waving a hand. “But there’s more to it than just knowing the royals. From what I’ve seen during my time living with them, the only one Rei is friendly with is boy Adonis, who has very little power, as he’s the youngest of five. From what we’ve heard, there are two factions at work--the Sand Lords, who want independence and free trade, and the slavers, who are taking this opportunity to destroy as many lives as they can, as profitably as they can. You...I know it’s been a long time, and I don’t want to open old wounds, but...if you know anything about where these people might operate, and to whom they might be selling, that would be invaluable. Not for me, for the people whose lives you’d be saving.”

 

“…What you’re askin’ isn’t something that can be _summarized._ ”

 

Mika shifts, pulling his cloak over his knees as he draws them to his chest. “Slavers have been around in the Sandlands ever since I can remember. Since my _mom_ could remember. I know, because if you’re a good enough whore, you get sold to a slaver who sells y’to noblemen like all of y’all. The brothels train people specifically for that.” Mika shrugs. “Chances are, some of the men on your council’ve got pets from the Sandlands they keep in their summer houses. And definitely, the noble houses in the Sandlands, they’ve all got their own that they’ve bought up.”

 

“Arashi, please secure the door.”

 

The command from Leo sounds so _kingly_ that Arashi moves to do as he says before thinking about it, checking outside to shoo the guards farther away, then shutting it, standing firm against the frame.

 

Leo leans forward, voice much quieter. “Two of the wealthiest, most influential families in my employ have children that were taken in those slaver raids. They’re nearly apoplectic with rage, and the Sand Lords are quietly pretending that they aren’t being held hostage. So I need to find out exactly where these children would be taken, or I’ve been informed that fully half of my financial backers will defect to the Sand Lords. This has to be quiet, and it has to be fast.”

 

There’s a sharp quip on the tip of Mika’s tongue, brought about far more by fatigue than anything else, but it doesn’t stop the thought from moodily echoing in his mind all the same. _Would you be this frantic if it were kids like me?_ He knows the answer is _no_ , and that makes him tired. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know who would’ve took ‘em,” he says, glancing away. “There’s a lot of groups it could be, even if they’re workin’ directly with the Sand Lords.”

 

“So like I said, we’re going to need to go down there directly,” Izumi says on a sigh, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “And do our own research.”

 

Mika’s eyes roll before he can stop himself. “Not a single man born outside of the South’s gonna get a sliver of info out of the people runnin’ this mess. You can’t speak sand tongue, and Southerners don’t like any of y’all unless you got money.” His lips purse. “I can go.”

 

Leo sighs, head in his hands. “I wish you’d been so keen to help when I said it was small villages,” he says softly. “And not when I said it was people with power and influence. But if you’re willing to go, I won’t object. Very few people from down there want to work with the crown.”

 

“He’s not going alone,” Arashi says sharply. “Mika, we can go as merchants, we’ll be partners and pretend to go looking for slaves to buy. You’ll be like my local interpreter.”

 

Mika sits up a bit, holding up painted fingers for Arashi to _shut up for a second._ “With all due respect, Majesty, fuck you,” he bluntly says. “There’s only one way t’deal with slave traders in the South, and it’s to get right into the thick of brothels. _I_ can’t do that in small villages, or I would’ve leapt at th’ chance. Why haven’t you tried to make friends with a few other whores that could help you out there, huh?”

 

“Because while I know of or could be connected with many prostitutes,” Leo says tersely, “and I know a few people with connections in the Sandlands, few if any of them are one and the same. In other words...I would only trust about seven people in the world with a task like this, and you’re the only one that could blend in to the Sandlands. So, fuck me, but do you want to save a hundred children from a life of slavery or not?”

 

“Mika, _amaka_ , don’t curse at the king, it’s not good for the future, please.”

 

“I’ll talk t’him however I like, ain’t like he listens to a word I’m sayin’ anyway,” Mika moodily snaps, unfolding his legs.

 

Izumi rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Mika.”

 

Mika’s lips purse. “I already said I’d help—with these rich kids that got snatched up. I can’t go to small villages and expect to fit in, though. You’ve gotta put me in one of the main brothels in the city, and let me work. There’s no other way. It might trickle down to help those smaller towns, eventually—but you need kids to spy for you there. You don’t wanna hear that, but that’s how it is. You’ll never crack any of this unless you have whores directly reporting back to you while they’re working. If you’re worried about loyalty, pay them.”

 

Leo slams his hands down on the desk, standing out of his chair. “You’re not _listening_ ,” he growls. “It isn’t that these small towns have been captured. It’s that every single inhabitant--every man, woman, child, old person, and cripple--has been _vanished_ into the slavery pipeline. They. Are. _Missing_. And I am trying to find them, but no one will talk to my agents, so I’m turning to the only damn people I can trust. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

 

“Yeah. Because what you’re describing is the same shit that happens _all the time._ ” Mika stares back at him. “They’re jus’ makin’ it obvious to you now, ‘cause they think it’s funny to piss you off and show you how good they are at avoidin’ everythin’ you try to do to fix it.”

 

Leo throws up his hands, then turns to Izumi. “Fix this,” he snaps irritably.

 

“Up,” Izumi orders, waving a hand at Mika as he pushes away from Leo’s desk. “We’re going back to my room to discuss this further. Arashi, you as well, come on.”

 

Mika’s tongue sticks out grumpily, and he holds out his arms. “ _Kara_ , carry me,” he complains.

 

Arashi lifts Mika with one arm, scooping him up, and immediately steers them back towards Izumi’s room. “This is handled very poorly,” he mutters, boots clicking on the stone floor. “I mean, I can’t exactly blame him for the whole last-minute aspect of it when it’s just been sprung on him, but...”

 

“It literally hit his desk fifteen minutes ago,” Izumi tiredly says. “He wouldn’t have brought it up if not for a dozen veiled threats hadn’t been shoved underneath his nose as well. I know, before you say it, I know, he’s not always the best at explaining what he wants, but it sounded to me like the two of you were more or less on the same page.”

 

“Pisses me off,” Mika bluntly says, arms laced around Arashi’s neck. “I don’t like it when he does that guilt trippy thing.”

 

“He’s not trying to make you feel guilty. He’s—never mind, in you go, both of you.”

 

Izumi shuts and bolts his bedroom door behind the three of them, wiping a hand down his face. “If you’re seriously willing to head down South and infiltrate a brothel, that’s something the two of you need to discuss at length—but I, for whatever it’s worth, don’t feel exactly comfortable with the idea.”

 

“I’m not here for it,” Arashi agrees. “Because Mika...it sounds like you think you’re going to be infiltrating as a prostitute, and that’s just not happening. We’ll go as merchants or something, you speak the Sand tongue, it’ll be fine.”

 

“Slavers don’t talk to merchants, they talk to high-class whores.” Mika flops his way out of Arashi’s arms and onto the bed, loosening his robe again and sprawling out. “It’d be a waste of time to do it your way. If the king wants help, there ain’t really other options.”

 

“Wait, why did you say he should talk to Rei?” Arashi asks, suddenly remembering that little nugget of information. “What does Rei have to do with you infiltrating? Which, by the way, you’ve _never_ done before, we should get a real prostitute to do it.”

 

Mika’s head slowly turns, and he stares at Arashi through his bangs. “Didn’t know I wasn’t a real one, _kara_.”

 

Izumi exhales a slow breath, and strides over to a cabinet that he opens and quickly pulls a bottle of wine from within. “Right, about Rei.”

 

“He knows people. Sand Lords, for one. But he also has brothels down there.”

 

“First, what I meant about you not being a real one--” Arashi explains, brushing hair out of his eyes, “I meant you’re not a _current_ one. And you’ve never, like...” He fumbles for words, then shrugs. “You’ve never been one with agency, you know? You were what, six? When you bloomed?”

 

Mika’s brow furrows. “Eh? No, I was just past ten. Also, I dunno what agency means, but I know how to be a whore, thanks.”

 

Izumi uncorks the wine bottle and drops down into a chair, not bothering with a glass as he takes along drink straight from the bottle. “Wait, wait—Arashi, didn’t you tell me you were seven or something when you saw him the first time?”

 

“I was,” Arashi says, brow furrowed as he stares at Mika. “You--you were so little, you _must_ be remembering wrong because of all the trauma. That was thirteen years ago, _amaka_ , you couldn’t have been eleven.”

 

“Uhh…yeah, I know how old I am, thanks.” Mika rolls his eyes, turning over to present both of them with his back. “‘So little’—I barely speak common tongue and even I know the word you’re lookin’ for is ‘stunted.’”

 

“Holy shit,” Izumi says, looking over at Arashi. “You’ve been fucking an older man all this time.”

 

Arashi blinks slowly, staring at Mika. “You’re...you’re _older_ than me?” he asks, stunned. “Even now?”

 

“Wow,” Izumi remarks, throwing back another gulp of wine, “it’s _so_ good that you’re gorgeous.”

 

“Yeah, _kara_ ,” Mika drawls. “Even now. Anyway, I was a whore for about seven years. I think I know how to do it.”

 

Arashi sinks down to his chair, mind whirling with facts that still don’t feel quite right to him. “I...shit. I’m going to need to process this for a while. Also, ew, seven years? ...The Sandlands are really disgusting, aren’t they? I thought you’d been there for a year, tops.”

 

“More wine,” Izumi suggests, leaning over and shoving the bottle into his hands. “Trust me. Well, now I’m even more against the idea, to be honest.”

 

“Then tell your king that. He’s got no one else. Anyone north of the Sandlands can’t fake being in the brothels. Being a slave, sure, but…” Mika flaps a hand. “Anyway, it’s not like I gotta fuck everyone. At the really high profile brothels, there are ways around that.”

 

Arashi takes a few swigs from the bottle, then blinks and looks down at the label. “How dare you give me good wine when I’m drinking for drunk?” he asks sadly. “I’ll be sorry about this later. What ways around it, _amaka_? I don’t want you fucking anyone but us.”

 

“Wealthy patrons that pay for their favorites to stay exclusive.” Mika flops around, ending up on his stomach again, but facing the two of them. “I guarantee even Tsukasa does it. Wealthy folks pick out their favorite, and pay a huge lump sum monthly to make sure they aren’t fucking anyone else but them. Like a mistress, basically, but still a whore, so you’ve got a lot less to worry about. Downside…or upside in this case, I guess? They attract slavers. The kinda money whores like that can sell for on the market…sometimes, their patrons are desperate enough to buy their contracts themselves, if they find out in time about it.”

 

Arashi exhales deeply, eyes clenched shut as he takes another deep swig. “Okay. Explain to me what you think we’re going to be doing. But honestly, if it doesn’t sound like you can do any good, or like you’ll be able to do it safely, I’m going to tell Leo to get another undercover agent, you’re too precious to risk.”

 

“There isn’t anyone else,” Izumi wearily reminds him. “Unless Rei’s got the time to slap a glamour on himself and run around in the South again, and I doubt he does.”

 

“Yeah, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. He and Master get real flinchy and weird about other people touching them in sexy ways these days.” Mika sighs, plopping his chin into his hands as his feet kicks lowly behind him. “But what he _can_ do is trade me into a brothel, one of the ones that’s connected to the Sand Lords, maybe, and say I’m from one of his. I’m pretty enough and I’m good enough that I look like someone he’d have. Then I can be right in the middle of it all and see, maybe, how people are being moved and where, which could lead us to who has those nobles the king’s so worried about.”

 

“And...” Arashi frowns, following along, realizing how much sense it makes and how much he hates it. “Right, so if I’m going to be your Patron, why would he trade you if I’m already being your Patron? That should be enough to keep you where you are, if I’m understanding it right? Or am I supposed to track you down and become your Patron when you get where you’re going?”

 

“I’ll ask him what he thinks is best…I dunno, I’ve been out of it for awhile so I am gonna need a refresher on how they’re doin’ stuff these days,” Mika points out with a little shrug. “Either way, it’s kinda convenient that you’ve got this whole…marriage scandal thing goin’ on. No one’s gonna look twice if you’re paying for a high class whore in the South with that in mind.” Mika sticks his tongue out and rolls over onto his back again with a sigh. “I should get my nipples pierced again, I guess.”

 

Izumi chokes, nearly spitting out a mouthful of very good wine. “Fuck. I wanna be your Patron, too, let me in on this.”

 

“You’re too famous, it would start to get suspicious. Besides, you can’t leave the Kingsguard.” The words are wistful--Arashi would dearly love to bring Izumi along, and he reaches out, brushing his fingertips over Izumi’s cheek. “I wish. I’ll miss you.”

 

“I’m not _leashed_ here,” Izumi grumbles, leaning into the touch and pressing a kiss to the inside of Arashi’s palm. “If you end up needing help down there, I’ll be the first to come,” he insists. “Like hell if I’m letting either of you get hurt.”

 

“Just drop in and check on me at some point, then you can see me all prettied up and Arashi can let you borrow me for a day or something,” Mika dismissively says. “That’s convincing enough, maybe. Nnnn, I really wanted time off, though, this suuucks…”

 

“We’ll make it fun,” Arashi assures him. “You’ll have plenty of fun downtime, right? I mean, you can’t be expected to be on demand all the time, especially not with a patron, right? And I’ll be expected to come take you on dates and things, right?”

 

“Ehh…not…exactly…you’re literally just paying for sex, _kara_. Dates and things, that’s for contracted slaves, more than anything…”

 

“How the hell’s that a date?” Izumi grouses.

 

“And uh, if by fun downtime y’mean giving handjobs because those still cost money but don’t apply to the exclusivity stuff, that’s…yeah.”

 

“...Fuck this,” Arashi growls. “We’ll find someone else, I’m not letting you go behind closed doors with horny maniac patrons just because...” _Because it’s our only chance to save hundreds of innocent people._

 

Arashi wishes his brain hadn’t reminded him of that, and grinds his teeth. “I hate this,” he whispers.

 

Izumi opens his mouth to say something, then thinks against it, grabs his bottle of wine, and climbs to his feet, “I’m going to let you two finish talking this out, and I’ll keep dealing with Leo’s side of things.” He gives Arashi’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “I’m not going to think less of you if you change your mind about it. So. Do as you will.”

 

With that, he takes his leave, the bedroom door clicking shut behind him. Mika huffs out a sigh, and reaches back over his head, making grabbing motions towards Arashi. “Come to bed,” he pleads. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

 

Arashi stands, loosening the laces of his shirt, tossing the garment off as he climbs into the bed, laying his head in Mika’s lap. “You’ll be safe,” he says softly. “You have to. This...I’ve never hated anything as much as the idea of you in danger, and me unable to help.”

 

“I know it sounds bad to normal people no matter what,” Mika quietly says, petting his fingers through Arashi’s hair and sliding them down his back. “But…I dunno, it still sounds normal to me, kinda like going home.” He grimaces. “Which is gross, probably, and weird, but…I dunno. I don’t think it’ll be _that_ bad. And I really do wanna help.” 

 

“I just...” Arashi curls up onto his side, closing his eyes, burying his face in Mika’s abdomen. “I can’t stop thinking of the night I found you. I know that was the worst day, but...maybe if you told me how it was, back then, on a good day, or even a normal day, I’d be able to understand?”

 

“A lot of sitting and waiting for someone to choose you to be the one they fool around with,” Mika wryly says, finger combing out Arashi’s hair before he absently starts to braid it. “Honestly…most of the time is spent lookin’ pretty, and in the brothel I was in, takin’ care of a lot of the younger kids. I didn’t have a patron or anything like that, but I was expensive, because I was pretty enough to be, and I was in a little town, where I really stood out. Like…yeah, there are bad people that come through. It can be really gross, and it can hurt, but I’m older now. Some ugly guy’s dick is a lot less scary nowadays, seriously.”

 

“Are you...going to be able to fake it?” Arashi asks, as delicately as he can. “You’re not...exactly...good at faking it when you don’t like someone. I guess I assumed that since you were so young, the fantasy from most people who’d purchase someone like that would be...well. Wouldn’t require a lot of, um, theatrical acting? Does that make sense?”

 

“ _Kara_ ,” Mika begins, as delicately as _he_ can, “did it ever occur to you that I’m like this now ‘cause I wasn’t able to be before?”

 

“...No? Explain?”

 

“When you work in a brothel, you smile and you flirt and you’re as sweet as they want you to be, or as scared as they want you to be. You keep your fucking mouth shut. I don’t have to do any of that now; I can swear at the king and tell someone I don’t like them and walk off in the middle of a conversation if I’m real annoyed. The only thing I wish I could’ve kept is being naked all the time, ‘cause apparently that’s not acceptable.”

 

Arashi walks his fingers up Mika’s belly, looking up at him as he circles a finger around one clothed nipple. “And you had these pierced, huh? Mm, I don’t want you to do it, but...I understand that it’s something that could help. And...just so you know, my darling, I won’t judge you if you do find something sort of fun about it.”

 

Mika pokes his tongue out, amused. “They were cute. They made me take them out at the Academy. Ears, too, but I pierced those again with one of Master’s sewing needles later on. I dunno, like—yeah, it was bad. I hated it a lot of the time. But…that was when I was _real_ little, and I was just scared all the time. When I started gettin’ older…I was really pretty, for a one-eyed whore, and the attention wasn’t as scary. Ahh, I’ll have to get Master to spell one of them, so they match,” he frets, lifting a hand self-consciously to his gold eye, “or it’ll be too obvious…”

 

“Wouldn’t it be more obvious if you didn’t have any parts missing?” Arashi asks, mildly confused, but set more at his ease than he had been before, reaching up to thread his fingers through Mika’s. “Oh, that reminds me. How many people do you think would recognize you? Is that something we’re going to have to deal with?”

 

“There are plenty of brothels that aren’t full of whores that aren’t missin’ parts. Not everyone’s into that, and a lot of nobles from the capital are especially squeamish,” Mika says with a snort, squeezing his fingers slowly around Arashi’s. “No one’s gonna recognize me. I was in a town way out in the desert, not in the cities. It’s real different there. I just…wanna make sure no nobles come through and recognize me as your wizard. That’s why Master’s gotta hide how weird my eyes are. I can pretty myself up and look different, but the eyes kinda ruin it.”

 

“Do you hate prettying yourself up with makeup and jewelry?” Arashi asks. His thumb rubs in slow, reassuring circles over the back of Mika’s hand, though Arashi thinks it’s to soothe himself just as much as it is to do anything for Mika. “I ask, because...hmm, you’ve never done it for me, and I’d dearly love to see you like that someday. But I wouldn’t take any pleasure in it if I knew it’s something you hate to do.”

 

“No, it’s not that I hate it.” Mika tilts his head to the side, shrugging. “I jus’…nnn…I’m not that good at it, myself,” he admits with a little laugh. “Other people used to do it for me, and then Master did a little, but the Academy had strict rules and stuff, and nowadays, I just wanna be naked and not have anyone stare at me but you. But don’t worry, _kara_ ,” he teases, leaning down, his hair tumbling over to fall into Arashi’s face, “I’ll make sure you get to see me look reeeal pretty.”

 

“You’ll have to learn, right?” Arashi asks. “I mean, you won’t have anyone that does it for you now, since you’re grown, right? Ahh, I really don’t know anything about this whole world. You’ll have to teach me everything. Which I think is _fine_ , since you’re older than I am!”

 

“Nah, the fancier and prettier you are, the more useless you typically are at gettin’ yourself that way,” Mika cheerfully says, “and if I come from one of Rei’s brothels, theoretically, that’s _really_ gonna be the case. Seriously, I dunno how all of y’all are so surprised about that, he _looks_ like he’s got brothels.”

 

“Eh? How does someone look like they have brothels? Do I look like I have brothels?”

 

Mika bats his eyelashes. “Nope, you look like someone that buys expensive whores.”

 

Arashi sits up, and huffs. “That’s not fair. I’ve never had to pay for it once in my whole life.”

 

“But there’s a stigma. Young, up and comin’ nobles like to squander their fortunes on whores.” Mika beams at him. “I don’t make the rules, _kara._ ”

 

“No, that’s fine--who else--what does Izumi look like?” Arashi asks eagerly.

 

“…A whore. A _really_ expensive one, like the kind that never gets to wear clothes because his patron buys him a lot of diamonds and wants them on his cock or something, that kinda thing.”

 

“Wait,” Arashi says, frowning. “He wants diamonds on his cock? Wouldn’t that, like, hurt? I have a lot to learn, I guess...”

 

“You’re really readin’ into this way too much, _kara_. Nnn, why are we still talkin’ about this, I don’t wanna,” Mika complains, flopping forward against Arashi. “Can we go back to what we were doin’ before we got interrupted by the squirrel king? That was good.”

 

“It’s pretty far from being hard,” Arashi admits apologetically, “but if I keep smelling you and you stick your hand in my pants, that could change. Mm, you’re the only one that could possibly make me interested after this many hours of horseback.”

 

“I’ve been on a horse forever, too, but I _missed_ you,” Mika complains, giving Arashi’s chest a shove, as if that’s going to get him any closer to flopping onto his back. “Nnnh, lie down, let me climb all over you again. I don’t care if it takes awhile, I jus’ wanna kiss you and I want you to pet me.”

 

Arashi flops happily down onto his back, grabbing at Mika to pull him close. “Mm, this is the best,” he murmurs, burying his face in Mika’s neck, inhaling deeply through his nose. “Ah...I don’t love the smell of men like you do, but I sure do love the smell of you.”

 

“ _Clean_ men,” Mika corrects him, happily shrugging his robes down to let them pool around his waist as he straddles Arashi’s hips. “Like you. And Izumin. And my master, that kinda thing.” His fingers splay over Arashi’s chest, and he sighs at the chipped paint on his nails before he leans up to catch Arashi’s mouth in a slow, easy kiss. “Mmn. Izumin’s the one with good wine now, huh?”

 

Arashi sucks gently on Mika’s lower lip, then smiles, letting his hands come up to pet Mika’s hair, sliding down to gently pet every part of him that Arashi can reach. “Mine’s still better. He’s got the cash and connections now, but he still doesn’t have the palate. Hmm, you’re not going to be mad if I don’t go get him, are you? I’d really like you to myself, just for one night.”

 

“If you went and got him, I’d be sooo mad at you,” Mika honestly says, breathing out a pleased sigh through his nose as Arashi’s hands pet down his back. “I don’t wanna share right now. I don’t ever _really_ wanna share,” he grouses, nuzzling into Arashi’s neck, planting a kiss there, then another, then tilting his head up to let his teeth graze gently against the lobe of his ear. “You’re mine.”

 

“I’ve missed you so much.”

 

The words come out more raw and honest than Arashi had intended, and he grabs at Mika, pulling him close, burying his face in Mika’s wild hair. He breathes in deeply, taking in the scent, feeling like he’s finally come home at the end of a deployment abroad. “I’ll go to the end of the world if I’m with you,” he murmurs. “Just don’t expect me to stand by if I ever see you hurt or scared.”

 

“ _Kara…”_ Mika exhales a long, shaky breath, his fingers dragging down through Arashi’s hair as he mouths a kiss to the side of his neck again. “It wouldn’t be you if you turned a blind eye,” he murmurs. “If the king wants a perfect spy, he ain’t gonna find one. I’m as good as it gets and I can’t wait for you to beat someone up if they scare me.”

 

That sets Arashi a little further at ease, and he tugs a thick duvet over both of them, tangling his legs around Mika to grab him even closer. “Don’t forget that you’re not a spy,” he says softly. “And you don’t owe him your life. I’m real sorry for those kids that got taken, and I’ll gladly fight and die to get them back home safe and sound, but it’s not worth your life, to me. Nothing is.”

 

Mika huffs at him, and promptly wiggles the rest of the way out of his clothes, preferring being naked and squished up against Arashi underneath blankets to anything else in the world. “I ain’t gonna die,” he bluntly says. “Neither are you. But I wanna help, if I can. I wish someone had tried to do the same for me. Nnn, you’re a furnace,” he mutters happily, and idly yanks open the laces to Arashi’s pants to stick his hands down them. “Nice.”

 

Arashi yelps, but Mika has pulled the same trick too many times to get him to flail so hard he falls out of the bed. Not again. “Rude, _amaka!_ Hmm, that brings up a point, though.” He rubs his face, noting with distaste that he badly needs to shave. It probably wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else, but _he_ can feel it. “I know this is embarrassingly squeamish of me, but do you think we could make sure that you get traded to one of the places that doesn’t...ah...have...children? I don’t know...that I could see something like that and keep from betraying our mission.”

 

“If I’m _technically_ one of Rei’s, then there ain’t gonna be really little kids,” Mika reassures him, sliding his hands around to grab Arashi’s ass and _try_ to squeeze it. Easier said than done, when Arashi is basically nothing but hard, solid muscle. “He wouldn’t deal in somethin’ like that. I mean, there will probably be teenagers and stuff around, but that’s kinda…whatever. They’ll pass me off as a teenager, too.”

 

“Not like that’ll be hard,” Arashi says with a sigh. “I still can’t believe you’re older than I am. Ah, but I didn’t really ask...is there anyone that you want to help, while you’re down there?”

 

Mika shakes his head. “That’s a whole other can of worms,” he admits. “And they ain’t gonna be where I am, anyway. If the king has his way with the laws he’s passin’…then eventually, they’ll get help, if they’re even still alive. They probably ain’t, though.”

 

Arashi runs a hand through Mika’s hair, then extricates his fingers from the snarls, kissing his temple. Once, Mika had frankly informed him, “ _Whores don’t live long_ , kara,” as if it were common knowledge. Unbidden, he says, “I’m glad you bloomed. I’m glad you got out of there. I wish I’d found you sooner and done something about it.”

 

Mika sticks his tongue out. “You were _so_ young,” he bluntly says. “What would you’ve done? What _could_ you’ve done? And you’re here now, so that’s all I really care about, y’know? And hey, now I get to go down south again and not freeze all the time.”

 

Arashi laughs. “Are you that badly off without your warming stone?” he teases. “No thought for your poor husband, who will be sweating to death?”

 

“I like it when you’re sweaty. It’s sexy.”

 

“I’m always sweaty, I’m physically active. Why do I have to be _hot?_ ”

 

“I dunno. I don’t think it’s that hot. I think it’s comfy.”

 

“Big soft beds are comfy. Heat is sticky.”

 

“Nnh, but they have big soft beds in the south, too. And the pricey brothels pay for wizards to come down and cool the rooms so that fickle patrons like you aren’t so cranky.” Mika’s lips twitch, and he props his chin into one hand, running his other fingertips down Arashi’s chest. “When you talk like that, y’know, you _really_ sound like a spoiled lord.”

 

“Let me be,” Arashi complains, stretching out under Mika, letting his fingers work over his skin. “I’m under a death sentence, I guess, so might as well make use of the little time I have left to be a brat. Spoil me.”

 

“Mm, all right.”

 

Mika ducks swiftly underneath the heavy blankets, mouthing kisses down Arashi’s chest and stomach. “You’re so tense, _kara_ ,” he murmurs, feeling the skin tremble underneath his lips as he presses a kiss to the jut of one hipbone. “Just let me take care of you and you’ll feel better soon.”

 

Arashi’s breath hitches, and he shifts, letting his legs part slightly, eyes lidding. “You okay with that being what we do tonight?” he breathes, eyes alight. “I’ll take care of you, I promise...”

 

“Hush.” Mika’s fingers unravel Arashi’s laces the rest of the way, tugging his breeches down. It’s dark underneath several layers of blankets, but it isn’t as if he can ever see worth a damn anyway, so it makes little difference to him. Better is what he can feel—the straining muscles in Arashi’s thighs, the way his stomach hollows in with each breath or touch of Mika’s fingers, and the twitch of his cock, slowly hardening when he lets the palm of his hand drag up against it, warm and soft. “You don’t gotta do anything,” he sighs, his thumb stroking slowly over the tip. “Just lie back and relax.”

 

Arashi’s head hits the pillow, and he hisses out a breath. One of his hands grabs the sheet, the other twining in Mika’s hair, encouraging his head down. It’s more appreciation and affection than actual direction, since Mika is far better at this kind of thing than Arashi could ever hope to influence. “Ahhh, that’s so good, my love...”

 

“You’re s~o wound up,” Mika teases, following the guidance of Arashi’s hand to slither further down. “I don’t even have my mouth on it yet…mmn, well, gonna fix that.”

 

His fingers curl around Arashi’s cock, stroking up from the base of it as his tongue drags over the head, rubbing flat over the slit before sucking it into his mouth with a soft, rumbling sound of approval. Arashi always tastes good to him—masculine, but clean, even after a hard day of riding, which is more than enough to make _Mika_ squirm as he sucks on Arashi’s cock.

 

All Arashi can think, for a long moment, is that he’s disgusting from the ride, that he hasn’t bathed since yesterday, that Mika must get bored of the taste of him eventually, that he must get bored of the act eventually. He feels exposed, foolish, and his cock twitches at the contact, then almost softens at the sudden anxiety.

 

But the blankets are thick and soft, and Mika’s mouth is warm and wet and welcoming, and Arashi slowly sighs, letting Mika work his magic. All of his worries melt away, as if Mika is _licking_ them slowly out of him, and he lets out a soft, urgent moan. “So...good...ah, no one does this like you, your tongue is so soft...”

 

Mika exhales a pleased noise through his nose and rewards the praise by letting Arashi’s cock slide further into his mouth, dragging over his tongue as he sucks on him, coaxing him gradually to full hardness. He only pulls back when he feels Arashi twitch against his tongue, and closes his lips _just_ around the tip of it, sucking off the little bead of precome. “You taste so good, _kara_ ,” he sighs, his lashes fluttering.

 

Arashi swears he feels the words more than hears them, breathed against his cock. “You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, even if he can’t see Mika, even if all he wants is to lie back and simply luxuriate in the feeling. Mika’s mouth is gorgeously talented, making his thighs tense, feeling his abdomen shiver. He’d never prefer this to being able to hold Mika in his arms and make love to him, but there _is_ an almost relaxing appeal to letting himself be spoiled, loved, taken care of.

 

Mika plants a last kiss to the tip of Arashi’s cock before swallowing it again, this time wasting little time in taking as much of it into his mouth as he can in one bob of his head. A low, rumbling groan in the back of his throat follows, and he scoots up closer, easing the head of Arashi’s cock down his throat as he swallows hard, eventually nuzzling down into the curls at the base of Arashi’s cock. He sucks slowly, his tongue dragging against him as he milks every shiver, his hand dragging up to cup and gently stroke Arashi’s balls.

 

A shudder, low and warm, starts deep in Arashi’s abdomen and works its way through his whole body, cresting in his nipples, his lips, his toes, his ears, everywhere sensitive. He exhales a moan, squirming as he stretches out, mouth parted. “Gods,” he groans, fingernails dragging against Mika’s scalp. “Nnh, you--I swear no one does this like you--can you even hear me under there? If you can, I love you...not just because you’re the best cocksucker I’ve ever bedded.”

 

A little, amused snort of breath escapes against Arashi’s belly, and Mika pulls off for a brief second, just to catch a swift breath and offer up, “Yeah, I know” before swallowing Arashi down again, this time in one long bob of his head that lets the head of Arashi’s cock bump and rub against his tongue, then against the back of his throat before sliding down.

 

Arashi curses under his breath, hips lifting from the bed in an urgent twitch, feeling himself start to drip over Mika’s tongue. His jaw aches in sympathy, and he tries to breathe harder, tries to forcibly bring himself closer to the edge. It never really works, and he contents himself with just thrusting shallowly against Mika’s lips, reveling in the sweet friction. “You can use your hand for a while, if you want,” he whispers, eyes closed. “I don’t mind.” _I would_.

 

 _Nope_. That’s the response that is as clear as day when Mika purrs around Arashi’s cock, rubbing his nose against Arashi’s stomach and simply letting Arashi thrust into his mouth for a moment, taking each thrust down his throat with ease. His hair refuses to stay out of the way, sticking to and tickling Arashi’s thighs when he moves with the rocking of Arashi’s hips, only using his hand, if anything, to squeeze around the base of Arashi’s cock when his mouth pulls up for a scarce moment, drawing out that aching throb, those twitchy little shivers that he feels against his tongue.

 

Arashi hisses again, then groans, squeezing his eyes shut as Mika works him expertly. No, he hates that, works him _passionately_ \--Mika obviously loves this, if the little noises, the hungry little breaths and sucks, are any indication.

 

He obviously doesn’t mind the thrusting either, from the way he moves with it, so Arashi doesn’t hold back, rutting up shamelessly against Mika’s face, though he keeps his hands at his sides. “Please,” he moans, not even knowing what he’s pleading for. “Please, gods, Mika--”

 

Mika whimpers in the back of his throat, and grabs blindly for one of Arashi’s hands. He drags it to his hair, insistently holding it there as he swallows Arashi down on his own, holding himself in place as he sucks and licks at Arashi’s cock as much as he can when he lets his mouth be fucked. The taste makes it to his tongue, off and on, when Arashi’s cock pulls back enough to rub against it—heady and masculine and bitter, and he shudders, shifting where he kneels, his own cock throbbing between his legs.

 

Heartbeats tick by, and finally, Arashi shudders hard, turning his face to bite into the pillow’s case, spilling hot and thick over Mika’s tongue in long spurts, dragging out the first orgasm he’s had in--

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, lying in what feels like a pool of his own sweat, chest heaving. “That was the first time I’ve come in over a month. Sorry, I know there must be a lot.”

 

Mika swallows long and hard, taking his time with it to make _sure_ he doesn’t miss a drop. Even with Arashi’s cock buried down his throat, it’s still a lot, and he draws back after a long moment, only when Arashi’s cock has started to go soft, licking his lips and panting out a hot breath. “There’s always a lot…b-but…that was _definitely_ a lot,” Mika says with a breathless laugh, slowly crawling his way up to flop down against Arashi’s chest. “Mmn, thanks for the meal…”

 

Arashi lets out a noise that’s more like a whimper than anything, and curls onto his side, dragging Mika close. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, and reaches down to palm Mika’s cock, taking his mouth in a deep kiss, ignoring the taste for once.

 

Mika arches with a ragged gasp, the sound trailing off into a low, rumbling groan as his hips automatically rub down, his cock dripping over Arashi’s fingers. “C…close,” he whispers, reaching up to grip at whatever handfuls of Arashi he can reach, which end up being both his hair and back. “C-can you…nhhh, just talk to me, I’ll be done _so_ fast, I p-promise, _kara_ —ahh…”

 

Arashi kisses Mika again, stealing his lips as long as he can, then moving to let his lips brush over Mika’s ear. “You’re so beautiful, darling, there’s no one in the world who can make me come like that. Ahh, I wish everyone could see how much you love that. Think I can do that, when we’re down in the Sandlands?” His hand drags down the length of Mika’s cock, thumb rubbing over the slick head. “Show you off, all pretty and glittery and _mine_?”

 

Mika buries his face into Arashi’s neck, panting out sharp, ragged breaths, rocking forward and trembling hard as Arashi’s fingers close around him, stroking him perfectly—but it’s the _words_ , those damned words in Arashi’s sweet, husky rasp against his ear that makes him spill in no time, clinging to Arashi as his hips jerk forward and his toes curl so hard that he feels his calves cramp and twitch. “F…fuck,” he groans, dissolving, tasting sweat when it drips down. “K… _kara…_ you…nhh…fuck,” he settles upon again, giving up.

 

Arashi presses a hard kiss to Mika’s temple, then folds him into his arms, tucking Mika’s head under his chin. “There you go, darling. That’s my _amaka_.”

 

Mika makes a soft, grumbly noise, pleased and content, and he butts his head underneath Arashi’s chin, content to be stuck to him, sweaty and overstimulated. “Nhh. I quit. Everything. ‘Cept this.”

 

“Me too. This is my new job. Cuddles and handjobs, that’s all anyone gets out of me for a while.”

 

“Okay, but you gotta put it in me at some point, or I’ll die.”

 

“You’re gonna need to wait at least an hour.”

 

“Not _tonight._ ” Mika nuzzles at his neck. “Too sleepy. Pet me ‘till I fall asleep.”

 

“Then you’d better fall asleep fast,” Arashi murmurs drowsily, petting. “Or I’ll beat you to it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rei and Shu arrive in the capital the next day, and Mika immediately gloms onto the chance to be near Shu after months.

 

Training a young wizard for months has been exhausting, but being away from Arashi _and_ Shu takes its toll. The second Shu is within his sights—and not having a formal conversation with anyone—Mika latches onto him, clinging to Shu’s waist, face buried firmly into his shoulder. “Master, Master—it’s been too long, I got things t’tell you, you gotta do maintenance on me,” he insists. On an afterthought, he lightly adds, “Hi, Rei.”

 

“Good afternoon, little bird,” Rei fondly greets, stifling a yawn behind a gloved hand. Human hours are, as always, _so_ troublesome.

 

“What in the heavens is wrong with your hair?” Shu asks immediately, though his arms are tight, face immediately buried into Mika’s hair. His arms are so tight that he lifts Mika off the ground, just breathing, and mutters, “Obviously I knew you’d be fine, I wasn’t worried at all, Rei is a liar if he says otherwise.”

 

“He wouldn’t stop fretting,” Rei provides without batting an eye. “I think he knitted five different sweaters. For cats.”

 

“Nice,” Mika says, looping his arms about Shu’s neck to happily dangle there, his legs swaying back and forth. “Master, you gotta fix my hair and make me look pretty.”

 

“How am I supposed to do such a thing when you’re clinging to me so?” Shu’s voice doesn’t contain much irritation, however, and he sits with a huff, encouraging Mika to sit on the floor in front of him. “Rei, make yourself useful and bring my hair tools. Oils, picks, and combs, as well as a ribbon. Do you have a theme in mind, or shall I make it up myself?”

 

Mika plops down, legs splaying out underneath him as he stares up at Shu through his thoroughly mussed bangs. “Yeah. Like I’m the most expensive whore you’ve ever met.”

 

Rei chokes on a breath, nearly dropping the caddy in question. “You know,” he says conversationally, “there’s been a _bit_ too much talk of that sort of thing lately. The king, then—“

 

“Yeah. He probably talked to you about those kids, huh?” Mika sticks out his tongue. “I gotta go down to the South and help.”

 

“Then fetch my jeweled hair sticks as well,” Shu says with a sigh, plucking oil and picks out of the caddy, starting to work on the long tangles spilling down Mika’s back. “I’ve been hearing rumors. I assume you’ve got a plan to throw yourself in an absurd amount of danger? I must really teach you both the benefits of scholarship that keeps you out of the public view.”

 

“Nnn…I felt bad about the kids,” Mika softly admits, tilting his head forward and staying still to let Shu work. “And it ain’t like the king’s got anyone else that’s trustworthy, y’know? I dunno, I dunno.”

 

“The king certainly did contact me,” Rei slowly says, rummaging through Shu’s stashes of jewelry and accessories. “Though I am rather annoyed that he would contact you about this as well.”

 

“It ain’t like it’s a secret about where I’m from.”

 

“That’s not my issue. My issue is that he now expects you to be put into a very dangerous situation. Ah, well, more for me to discuss with him today and scold him about.”

 

“Rei, please don’t act as though you think I trained someone incapable of taking care of himself in a dangerous situation,” Shu says, blinking down as his hands work. “It will do no one any good to lecture him about something he obviously must do, you fool. Instead, I expect you to expend your energy in the procurement of companions for him. Mika, do you want to be sealed now, or later?”

 

Mika grimaces at the thought. “Better to get it over with, I guess, so I get used to it,” he settles upon, fiddling with the ends of his robes. “And…you gotta make my eyes match. If you don’t, it’s too obvious.”

 

“Companions? Honestly,” Rei sighs, setting down the hair sticks in question for Shu and then dropping down into a chair, chin in hand. “I suppose I know of a few that might be helpful. Ah, but I still worry, the Sandlands aren’t as calm as they used to be.”

 

Shu’s hands still, and he bites his bottom lip. “I can put a glamor on it,” he says hesitantly, “but a powerful enough wizard might be able to tell, or even dispel it. But changing the color of it...that will hurt, you know. Even with a touch as deft as mine.”

 

“Yeah, but you gotta.” Mika tilts his head back, expression wry. “You could do the clonin’ spell, so it temporarily copies over one or the other? Do the blue one, then I’ll be like, pretty close to blind, that’s a good gimmick.”

 

Shu clicks his teeth, then nods. “Rei, be a darling and tell Izumi I’ll need one of his fingers, will you? That will ease the pressure on you considerably--it might even be somewhat comfortable, after a while. And at least you’ll be able to see some in the daytime that way. Just promise me you won’t go out at night without help.”

 

Rei heaves himself to his feet with another, stifled yawn, patting the top of Mika’s head as he passes and leaves the room, and Mika wrinkles his nose. “I mean, I think I’m gonna be pretty busy at night,” he says with a snort. “Well, theoretically. Arashi’s not exactly on board with any of this. I told ‘im he needs to pay to be my patron. I figured Rei can help set that all up so it looks legit.”

 

“That... _might_ work.” Shu works his way to the top of a tangle, starting at the end of another and working his way up. “Though I can’t imagine that’ll do his woman-hating reputation any good, and might well hurt his chances of making a good marriage if anyone of consequence were to discover him. Doubtless he hasn’t put much thought into it. He must be quite good in bed, I thought I brought you up to be more attracted to brains than brawn, but we all make mistakes. At least, you do.”

 

“Yeah, Master likes the overthinkers, huh?” Mika gently teases, barely swaying with the brushing of his hair, doing his best to stay still. “I never thought I’d end up with someone like Arashi,” he admits. “I mean…with anyone at all, honestly, but not someone like him for _sure._ But…I dunno, he’s different. Maybe he hasn’t thought this kinda thing through at all, but that’s what I like about him. He wants me to be safe no matter what.”

 

“I,” Shu says frankly, “never thought that you’d end up with someone who likes to top so much.”

 

“Yeah, basically. I ain’t never put it in him. I dunno why I’m like this, I jus’ want him to break me in half.” Mika shrugs. “Izumin’s funny about it, ‘cuz, y’know, obviously, if you’re a prostitute, you’re a bottom.” The sarcasm is rampant. “He tries to come onto me all toppy and I kinda just have to punch him sometimes.”

 

“Which I’m certain he enjoys to some extent. Ah, I’d warn you not to bruise up his beautiful face, but at least he can heal from it instantly.” Shu plucks a couple of jeweled sticks from his caddy, then starts trussing up Mika’s hair in long gently-falling curls, giving the illusion of being tousled without leaving a single fall to chance. “I’m sure I don’t have to lecture you about being safe. I will in any case. Don’t you _dare_ take foolish chances, don’t go anywhere alone, don’t make me worry.”

 

“Nnh, I’m not gonna make you worry, Master, I got this.” Mika’s tongue sticks out as he thinks, wetting his lower lip. “I _do_ know how to do this, and handle the kinda guys that show up in the Sandlands trying to buy a whore. It’s not usually the guys that wanna have sex with you that are _that_ bad. But tryin’ t’explain that to Arashi sometimes…”

 

“Oh? Ah, is it those, ah, amputors? That are the real ones to watch out for?” Shu guesses, settling his hands onto Mika’s head, closing his eyes and invoking his magic, taking his time and crafting the finest seal he’s ever made.

 

“Not even. It’s the slavers themselves.”

 

Mika isn’t any stranger to having his magic sealed, but it’s still itchy and uncomfortable to him, no matter how it’s done. Shu does it more comfortably than anyone else has ever managed, however, and he fights down the urge to shift and wriggle, grumbling underneath his breath. “Bleck. No ghosties for me, huh.”

 

“Which is a shame.” Shu plucks fondly at a few errant strands of hair. “I’ve heard only extensive compliments from the Academy about how well behaved your ghosties are lately. After all, the best way to master something is to teach it.”

 

“Maybe it’s ‘cuz I’m not constantly stressed out and livin’ in fear that someone’s gonna kill my _kara_.” Mika tilts his head back again to peer up at Shu. “Did you know, Arashi and Izumi both thought I was like, _really_ young. Like, still a teenager, heh.”

 

Shu blinks. “Wait. Really? Doesn’t he call you _amaka_? Isn’t that only used to address an older lover?”

 

“Yeah, but he don’t listen to what I tell him half the time.”

 

“That’s how you know he’s a soldier. Honestly, you don’t have a resonant bond with him,” Shu lectures, mentally trimming the edges of Mika’s seal, making it as absolutely perfect as possible. “You could shop around a bit while you’re down there, see if there’s anyone more suited to your temperament. I can’t imagine that he truly comprehends your melancholia.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m gonna find someone good in the Sandlands,” Mika scoffs, shaking his head. “I love him. I think we’re suited well enough. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t really get me sometimes, my head gets scary. ‘Sides, the only person that really gets it is you, and you’re taken, sooo…”

 

Shu leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of Mika’s pinned-up curls. “Not for lack of, well, finding you compatible. You know that. Such things, like I have with Rei, are...unavoidable.”

 

“Mm, I know,” Mika cheerfully says. “But that’s why I’m glad I don’t have a bond, y’know? Like, if for some reason Arashi got weird and terrible—he won’t, but who knows?—I ain’t stuck. At least Rei’s real handsome, huh?”

 

“What have I done now to be reduced to merely handsome?” Rei bemoans as he strides back in, withdrawing a bloody handkerchief from the inside of his cloak. “One finger for you, love. Mika, you’re looking especially beautiful.”

 

Shu huffs, patting Mika’s shoulders and standing, pulling out his small portable cauldron and setting it up. It only takes a moment for his fires to heat it to searing, and a flurry of ingredients from his shelf quickly start hissing and bubbling. “Throw it in, my lord. Mika, are you sure you want the clone spell? You’ll see better if I merely dye it.”

 

“Gotta be convincin’,” Mika says with a shake of his head, blowing a curl of his hair out of his face when it tries to flop its way back over. “And I’ll be even less threatenin’ to everyone if I try to sit around and listen in on things.”

 

Rei shakes his head, unwrapping the finger and tossing it into the cauldron. The liquid hisses, popping threatening. “Perhaps don’t tell your lover that you’ve gone so far,” he carefully advises. “He’s already been expressing his disapproval.”

 

“Again? Ehh…” Mika sighs, leaning back. “He’ll figure it out even if I say nothin’, he’s good at that kinda thing.”

 

“You’re giving quite a lot of credit to someone with no clue what age his lover is,” Shu says dryly, pulling a stirring stick from the wall, wafting the fumes away with a wrinkle of his nose.

 

“But with body stuff he’s real smart! To be fair, I _look_ a lot younger than I am,” Mika insistently says.

 

“Your lover is a _fantastic_ soldier,” Rei says sweetly, settling down onto the floor next to Mika and tilting his chin up, turning his face side to side before pulling over Shu’s kit of makeup over. “Look up.”

 

Mika obediently does as he’s told, though it’s with a roll of his eyes all the same as Rei deliberately paints his eyes with kohl. “Y’all are so mean about him.”

 

Shu ignores that, stirring his potion, scraping the sides as the chemicals break down the muscles, then the bones into tiny splinters, then liquefies them into a faint gelatinous substance, melding with the rest of his ingredients. “Rei, did you have a chance to select Mika any companions? I don’t want him doing any of this alone. I’ll go with him myself if I must.”

 

“How adorable that you think that’s a possibility,” Rei snorts, continuing his painting with a steady hand. “I contacted a boy that I brought to High Harbor from one of my brothels. He should be able to work with Mika directly as his attendant; his experience is perfect for such a thing.”

 

“Oh, is it the little one from the stables?” Mika absently asks, shutting his eyes when Rei gives him the go-ahead. “He was real cute.”

 

“Yes, Hajime. He’ll be here within a day or two.” Mika’s lashes are as long and thick as his hair with a bit of attention paid to him, and Rei pauses, looking at him before he shakes his head, amused. “The fact that you choose to look like the little cats that scrounge in the trash most of the time is such a shame,” he mutters, dipping another brush into a pot of red to tint Mika’s lips.

 

“Yeah, well, you can find some neat stuff in the trash sometimes.”

 

“Shu, this child is missing the point.”

 

“And the point is a good one, no less.” Shu sniffs at the mixture, then fetches the ewer, splashing in a few careful drops of water, which immediately coalesce into white ice, then melt into the powders, making them swell and crackle. “Why are you doing his makeup if they aren’t leaving for a few days? We’ll just have to reapply it.”

 

“I wanted to see exactly how pretty he is,” Rei hums, undeterred. “It’s integral that I can speak exactly of his assets when I contact other owners in the South. There are a few in the capital that I’ll try touching base with first.”

 

“Gross.” Mika’s tongue pokes out again, and he regrets it, because makeup tastes gross. “Are you gonna have to like, actually sell me? I never got traded to other brothels before.”

 

“Mm, basically. You need to stop putting your tongue out like that, or put some jewelry in it.”

 

“Ooh, that one.”

 

Rei looks over at Shu, exasperated. “Do you ever _remember_ how perverted he really is? He puts me to shame, I swear. Why do you like this sort of company so much?”

 

“It’s the contrast, of course.” Shu leaves his cauldron to bubble for a few moments, moving to one of his cabinets, pulling out a drawer and sifting through. “To my absolute purity, obviously. You’re both perfect examples. Here, I’m thinking rubies, and I’m correct. This should work in any tongue jewelry. Do you already have a hole, or shall I?”

 

Rei looks over at Shu skeptically. “Purity. You. Shall I remind you of—ah, no, I suppose I shouldn’t, you’re busy brewing.“

 

Mika perks up. “You can’t stop, I want this story.” He pauses to stick his tongue out again, and idly run a finger down it before putting it up again. “I _think_ the hole’s still there on this one, but I know the ones in my nipples are all gone. Stupid Academy.”

 

“Are you certain you want to be quite so alluring?” Shu asks, raising an eyebrow as he advances with the jewelry. “What if someone finds himself simply unable to resist you? You know that Rei will have to sell you for real, essentially. If your brothel manager knows you aren’t to be a real prostitute, your cover will be in danger.”

 

“Slavers aren’t gonna come around unless there’s someone worth it,” Mika points out. “So if I don’t look like someone they wanna snatch up and actually _sell_ …it’s kinda defeatin’ the purpose, ain’t it?”

 

“Eavesdropping on their activities is one thing,” Rei softly says, sitting back. “But actually being kidnapped and sold by them is another, especially if you’re sealed and defenseless.”

 

“Yeah, but…I dunno. I think the quickest, best way to get this all resolved is for the biggest names to actually come out and come for someone like me. And,” Mika idly says, “if you put a lot of magic trackin’ into all this jewelry, if I do get snatched up, it ain’t like they’re gonna rip it out of me, that’s damagin’ the goods—so you’ll be able to find me, and follow me. And hopefully, all those kids and the whole operation with ‘em.” His expression shifts to something vaguely impassive. “I ain’t stupid, I know bad things could happen to me—probably _will_ happen to me, but if that’s what I gotta do to hopefully put a stop to this kinda thing for good, then fine.”

 

“Jewelry is a bad idea,” Shu murmurs to himself, clicking his tongue as he thinks. “They wouldn’t rip it off of you, but everything I’ve ever heard of those people makes me think they would absolutely remove your jewelry to sell it. I certainly wouldn’t trust them to leave you your possessions. Perhaps if you had a plain stud in your tongue?”

 

“Nhh, maybe? But I want it to be pretty,” Mika complains, pouting up at him. “And fancy. Master, you’ve gotta make me fancy.”

 

“You’re already fancy,” Rei reassures him, patting his cheek. “Even just right now, you look like someone that would sell for quite a bit of money.”

 

“Y’know, when you say it like that, it makes me kinda wanna scream?”

 

“I’ll give you mostly gold and precious gems,” Shu decides, “and spell one of them to look like tin and glass. Precious stones and metal hold spellwork for far longer, anyway. Rei, don’t be creepy, he’s going to be dealing with enough of that soon.” His fingers twitch as he adjusts a hair stick, making it shine more brilliantly,drawing attention on purpose. “Ahh, perhaps I really should go with you...just as a visiting merchant, I can at least keep an eye on you?”

 

“You are _not_ going,” Rei firmly says. “Not unless I’m with you, and one of us has to stay behind for the Academy.”

 

“I’ll be _fine_ , Master,” Mika huffs, tilting his head back to peer at him. “I mean, I ain’t gonna hate it if you visit, a chance to climb all over you sounds fun…”

 

Not for the first time, Shu mentally laments the fact that his bond with Rei makes him essentially unable to enjoy _climbing over_ anyone else. It isn’t much of a trade-off, but sometimes Mika makes such charming comments... “I’ll see what I can do. And if I can slip my jailer, here. Rei, if you tell me it isn’t safe, that you can’t keep my Mika safe, I won’t allow him to go.”

 

“I can keep him safe. He’s my top priority, _obviously_ ,” Rei snorts, leaning back where he sits. “And I’ll also educate Lord Arashi on exactly how to conduct himself to make _sure_ no one else lays a hand upon his little favorite here. Between myself, his lover, and a proper attendant, he’ll be just fine.”

 

“Even without magic,” Mika absently notes, reaching out to prod at Rei’s chest, where his hourglass normally would be, too strange for him to look at straight on at any given point. “It’s better that I ain’t leaving today…I have to get used to this. And probably being mostly blind.”

 

“I just cannot understand why you’d _want_ to be blind,” Shu says with a sigh, and fetches a ceramic cup, scooping his simmering mixture into its depth before handing it over. “Look up.”

 

“I told you, it’s a gimmick. Also, I ain’t gotta look at anyone ugly while I’m down there,” Mika hums, obediently looking upward.

 

“Clever. Little minx.” Shu winces at the necessity, but takes a color sample from Mika’s blue eye, which hopefully doesn’t feel any worse than a pinch, then stirs the color itself into the mixture. “Drink. It won’t feel good.”

 

Mika blinks a few times to keep his eyes from watering, and takes the cup with a sigh. “Here’s to looking normal for a few weeks!” he cheerfully says, and downs it all in one gulp.

 

More than the shockingly bitter taste, it _burns_ , almost instantly, and Mika hisses through his teeth, shutting his eyes with a sharp inhale. “Ow, ow, ow. Ahh, it’s all stingy, I don’t like it, ow.”

 

“It certainly will make you harder to recognize,” Rei apologetically says, leaning forward to dab at the corner of Mika’s eye with the end of his sleeve as a hot tear streaks down his face. “Easy there, love, it shouldn’t hurt for long.”

 

“Nnhhh, I wanna rub it but I know that’ll make it hurt more,” Mika bemoans, flapping a hand in irritation as he forces himself to blink a few times, trying to make the stinging fade, and the world shifts from watery and bright to foggy, distorted, and oddly dark at the edges. “Yep, that’s about what I expected,” he mutters, blinking a few more times. 

 

“For what it’s worth…you’re _very_ alluring with big, crystal blue eyes,” Rei says. “Look at this creature, Shu, he’s so lovely.”

 

Shu purses his lips. The reality starts to truly sink down on him, and he turns away, heart in knots, stomach twisting. It’s too easy to imagine Mika, his precious apprentice, the one closer to his heart even than Rei, alone and surrounded by predators in his homeland. Shu has heard story after story of how awful Mika’s childhood had been, and had only avoided nightmares by reminding himself over and over that all of that is behind, it’s all in the past. Mika might be putting on a brave front, but Shu can see the way his hands are twisting in his lap, the way his shoulders are tensed, the way he retreats into crude humor when he’s terrified. “No,” he says abruptly, standing and turning away. “I’ve changed my mind, I refuse to allow this. You won’t go. If the king wants these people saved, he should have spies and agents for such a thing.”

 

“There _ain’t_ no one else, Master,” Mika protests, hauling himself to his feet with a little sway. Ah, this is strange, not the sort of poor sight he normally has when he pulls his hair over his good eye, but something so much worse. That’s unnerving, but he bites his lip, forcing himself to ignore it. This part was completely his idea, and it’s a _good_ one. “Anyone else he got, he couldn’t trust. If…if I go, maybe somethin’ll get done this time, y’know?”

 

“Of course there’s someone else,” Shu snaps. “Rei’s sending someone with you, isn’t he? He can go by himself. You don’t need to be in this sort of danger. I won’t let you.”

 

“Hajime,” Rei patiently interjects, “won’t be able to do the work Mika can. His involvement within brothels was much more…minimal, because he was in one of mine.”

 

“Which are basically just nice warm houses for kids to work in, yeah? So he don’t know nothin’ like I do,” Mika says, grabbing at Shu’s sleeve and staring up at him imploringly to see as much of him as he can. “You gotta let me,” he quietly says. “Shu—if I don’t, no one’s ever gonna do nothin’ to fix it. The king can’t.”

 

“But what if something happens to you?” Shu whispers, letting his hands come to rest on Mika’s cheeks. Mika hadn’t seen him as broken, foolish, past his prime when Eichi had humiliated him. The idea of sending him back into the nightmare of his childhood is unconscionable. “I’ll die without you.”

 

“Nothin’s gonna happen,” Mika firmly says, lifting his hands to rest them over Shu’s. He wishes he felt as confident as he tries to sound. More accurately, more realistically, he should have said _nothing’s going to happen that hasn’t before._ “I’m good at this kinda thing, remember? You ain’t gonna die. Those kids might, though, if I don’t help.”

 

Shu wavers, looking into those oddly matched eyes--he hates it that they match--and then over to Rei. “If anything happens,” he says quietly, “this is partly your fault. Is this Hajime child trained in combat, at least?”

 

Rei hesitates at that. “Well—he’s certainly stronger than he looks. Shu, do you really think I would send someone useless?” 

 

“Even if y’did, I don’t even need ‘im, _honestly_ ,” Mika insists, squeezing Shu’s hands. “He’s jus’ gonna be there to make sure I don’t trip over myself all the time. I can _do this_ , I mean it.”

 

“Explain it to me, then,” Shu implores, blinking rapidly, squeezing Mika’s hands just as tightly. “Explain why only you can do this, what you’re going to do, and how fast you’ll come home.”

 

“I…I don’t know what I’m gonna do, exactly,” Mika admits, reversing his grip to pull Shu’s hands from his face and pull them to his chest instead, clutching them there tightly. “Whatever I gotta do, I guess. It’s not like the king gave me a ton of info, he just…I could tell he needed someone to go down there, and I’m the only one that can fit in, and talk to these people, and figure out things, so I…” His lower lip wobbles, and he blinks hard, glancing down. “You’re makin’ it sound scary again, stop it.”

 

“ _I’m_ making it scary?” Shu demands, voice rising on the edge of hysteria. “After you spring this not-plan on me? Rei, talk me out of forbidding this, I’m on the verge.”

 

“Enough, enough, both of you.” Rei sweeps to his feet again, prying them apart and placing a firm hand on Shu’s shoulder. This lasts for all but a second when Mika lurches forward again, latching firmly onto Shu’s waist, face buried into his chest, and Rei heaves a sigh. “I’ll _personally_ check on him while he’s down there, to make sure everything is going well. If at any point this mission causes him more harm than it does good, I’ll remove him, and that’ll be the end of it. Then our king can find his own spies—which he should have either way, I agree, but time is of the essence in this and Mika’s right to be concerned.”

 

“I jus’ wanna prove it can be fixed,” comes Mika’s muffled response from Shu’s chest, his voice wet and miserable. “It ain’t fair that it’s still the way it is, I gotta do something t’help, no one else is gonna.”

 

Shu bites his lip, but nods, resting his chin on Mika’s head. “I’ll send you with every protection,” he says fiercely. “Nothing will ever hurt you if I have something to say about it. I promise you this.”

 

Mika nods, rubbing his face into Shu’s chest before he looks up, makeup streaking down his face. “…I don’t wanna go,” he finally admits, sniffling. “I wanna go back North, even if it’s cold.”

 

Rei exhales a slow breath, and releases Shu’s shoulder with a squeeze. “I’m going to go talk to the king,” he says, and he briskly steps away, the door shutting hard behind him.

 

Shu presses a hard kiss to Mika’s forehead, then settles in front of the fire, pulling Mika onto his lap. “I’ll keep you safe. I’m a Nightcloak, aren’t I? If I’m not able to keep even one precious person safe, then what use is all that power? I will absolutely manage to keep you safe, so you can go back North as quickly as possible.”

 

Mika curls up into Shu’s lap, nestling his way into his chest and rubbing his face back into his shoulder. “But I’ll be all the way South,” he unhappily says. “And Rei ain’t gonna let you go. And he’s right not to.” He shivers, huddling up closer. “I shouldn’t’ve agreed, but Leo made me so _mad_ , that way he does, and now I…I’ve made such a big deal about it bein’ fine, so I…” Mika shrugs, clutching at one of Shu’s sleeves. “He really doesn’t have anyone else.”

 

“You won’t be alone, though,” Shu murmurs, pressing another kiss to Mika’s temple, holding him closer. “You’ll have Rei’s connections, and his boy as an ally. You...it won’t be the same. You won’t be alone, and you’ll have weapons. And I’ll show you how to destroy the seal for any emergencies, so you can defend yourself. Don’t forget, you’re a powerful, and very adorable and terrifying wizard, not a helpless child.”

 

“I k-know. But I still don’t wanna. I’m gonna, but I don’t wanna.” Mika sniffles, lifting his other hand to wipe at his eyes. “Even if Arashi is my patron, I’m still gonna have to touch gross men that I don’t wanna touch,” he miserably says. “I’m kinda scared to tell him about that. Nnh, maybe you should be the one that fakes being my patron instead…”

 

Shu blinks. “You think I could pull that off? I thought I’d perhaps go as a rival proprietor who wanted to employ you. Do I look like the sort of man who would be a patron?”

 

“I mean…you look like the kinda guy that likes pretty boys, so close enough?”

 

Shu sniffs. “Very well, then. Perhaps under those circumstances Rei _will_ let me go. Honestly, I believe in you vastly more than I believe that big slab of meat will be able to hold character if anyone moves against you. Do you think he’ll be able to stand there calmly if you have a black eye?”

 

“…No,” Mika admits, glancing down at the corner of his sleeve, down streaked black from kohl. “He’ll freak out. He’ll be so mad at me if I don’t let him go, though…I thought…maybe him freaking out would be good and convincing or somethin’, but…I’ve been thinkin’, nobles don’t really give that much of a shit about whores.” He deflates, his shoulders sagging. “And it’ll just make it harder, if I gotta touch other people, if I think he’ll be comin’ around…”

 

“I’ll talk to Rei,” Shu promises. “Perhaps I’ll ask him to give Arashi the wrong information about where you’ve been sold. Hmm, but if he goes looking for you, that could be troubling for his reputation, currently damaged as it is....”

 

Mika shakes his head. “Instead of wrong information, maybe if I just leave for the South when he’s asleep or somethin’…maybe Izumin would make him stay put,” he wearily says. “I don’t want him to get in more trouble ‘cause of me.”

 

“...As much as I like the idea of you having a soldier next to you in theory,” Shu says softly, “that’s...probably the best plan. Having him around would only distract you. Be honest. You’d be worried about him seeing you like that, and what he’d think of you after.”

 

“Y’mean the reason I never even comb my damned hair around him?” Mika manages with a wet laugh, his lower lip trembling again. “I d-don’t want him to think I’m gross or…or that I _enjoy_ it, I…I’m jus’ good at makin’ the best of things and…”

 

“Mika.”

 

Shu takes Mika’s face in his hands, looking at him very seriously. “You don’t have to put on a theater of suffering about your past,” he says quietly. “I know. It was a bad situation. And I know that in any bad situation, there are the worst days of all, and there are some days with light, and you feel as though you can’t speak of the little joys, or someone will think you’d rather be back there. If you hadn’t bloomed, you’d still be there--and I like to believe that you could have managed to be happy, at least three days out of ten. You’re resourceful, and clever, and excellent at managing the expectations of you that other people have. And if you ever repeat any of this, I’ll deny it.”

 

Mika trembles for a moment longer before he launches into Shu’s chest, clinging to his neck with a shaky sob. “You _gotta_ come with me, you gotta,” he whispers, his fingers curling tightly into the back of Shu’s shirt. “Y-you get it, I love him so much but you _get it_ , I don’t even gotta explain it, you…” His breath hiccups. “You already know how fucked up this all is, how fucked up _I_ am. I…just because I’ve told him things…it doesn’t mean he gets it.”

 

“Shh, you’re being foolish,” Shu whispers, tone devoid of chastisement as he holds Mika close. “I’ll--I’ll figure something out. Not that I think I’ll find it much more tolerable than your brute of a lover, if I were to see someone beautiful being tormented, but...” He shrugs. “I _am_ a better actor.”

 

“You’re the best actor,” Mika huffs, his face stuffed into Shu’s neck. “I’ll cry until Rei lets you come with me. He’s bad with cryin’.”

 

Shu snorts. “If you think he could honestly say no to me on a position I feel firmly about, you haven’t truly seen how he crumbles in the face of my logic. Yes, I’ve decided now, I’m going South with you. We can work on exactly how and who our cover stories are on the way. You’ll need me anyway; if you must break your seal, you’ll need someone to reapply it.”

 

Mika nods, sniffling as he sits back a bit, and scrubs numbly at his watering eyes. It’s still unnerving for his sight to be _so_ obscured, but he shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and focuses on ignoring it. It’s not like it’s _permanent._ “Are you gonna be okay with…y’know…touching me if you gotta?” he quietly asks. “You get flinchy even if I kiss you.”

 

“I get flinchy,” Shu says, very quietly as he reaches up, stroking Mika’s hair, “because my soul and my body are in conflict. Because I love you dearly, and never wish to obscure the way I feel about you, or about the limits of my soul-bond. If it were just for acting--yes, I very certainly could.”

 

“…Okay. So long as it doesn’t…like…hurt you or somethin’.” Mika flops his head against Shu’s hand. “Be my patron that makes me pretty things to wear.”

 

“What if I went as a high-class procurer?” Shu asks, pondering the idea. “A patron, to be sure, but the sort that come looking for the most beautiful ones to sell to nobility. It would explain not only an interest in you, but also a proprietary stake. It would give me a reason to be urgent and firm about your welfare, don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah…and you look and talk like a noble, so everyone would believe that. Nnh, and it’d give you a reason to perform maintenance and stuff~” Talking this through with Shu is _so_ much more calming, and _doable_ , and Mika starts to feel like he can catch his breath again. “Am I pretty enough for that kinda thing, though? Like, I know I’m too pretty to be in small town brothels now, but to attract that kinda eye, I dunno…”

 

“You have talents,” Shu reminds him. “Courtesan-level at singing, I’d say, though your dancing needs some work. I can improve that on our way South. If you can sing and dance, as well as possess the courtly manners you’ve been learning, yes. I think you’d fetch a very high price, even from...hmm. Not the high nobility, of course, but wealthy, titled men who need not conform to the expectations of their family in everything? Yes, I think so.”

 

“If anyone can make me bring a lot of money, it’s Master,” Mika sighs, and he toys with the ends of his sleeves, fidgeting. “I hope this all works to fix it. I know the king means well, but he’s…nnhh…I don’t think he knows how much of a problem it really is. And the other people that could tell him, they’re scared to talk to him after all the stuff his father did.”

 

“It isn’t just that,” Shu says quietly. “There are other things...that you don’t need to be worrying about, but...suffice to say the king is dealing with quite a lot right now. Cleaning up after his unlamented father is proving to be a task for the ages. He’s doing remarkably well, for everything that’s going on.”

 

“I know, I know. I just wanna go back up North with my babies—er, Izumin’s babies and curl up on a warmin’ stone and never leave,” Mika bemoans. “I don’t care about politics, I just want good things to happen.”

 

Shu gently pushes Mika off of his lap, lips pursing. “That’s quite enough negativity from you, child. No more whining, you’ll get wrinkles.”

 

“I ain’t ever gonna get wrinkles,” Mika huffs, flopping back down to the floor in a puddle of his cloak. “I’m magic. Nnnn, I dunno who told you I’ve got proper courtly manners now, they were lyin’.”

 

“Good. They shouldn’t be too perfect, that would be suspicious. You can’t make it obvious that you’ve been spending most of your time with the King, two Nightcloaks, and a Lord.” Shu reaches down, plucking at one of Mika’s sleeves, smoothing his stitching. He’d made the garment himself, of course, as he had all of Mika’s clothing. “And you’ll have to pretend to be ignorant of everything magical.”

 

“That part’s easy, if I can barely see shit,” Mika bluntly says. “But, y’know, this does make my hearin’ better. I think you’d go insane. Also, you smell even better than usual, that’s gotta be part of being mostly blind. Freaks me out a little not to see hourglasses, but I’ll get used to it.”

 

The door clicks open again, and Rei steps inside, looking as annoyed and ruffled as he always does after a conversation with Leo. “I’m glad you look more settled now, because the entirety of this affair seems unavoidable after all,” he wearily says.

 

“Yeah. Shu’s comin’ with me.”

 

Rei shuts his eyes. “You know, half an hour ago, you were agreeing with _me_ , Mika, on that subject.”

 

“Yes, but then we thought, really thought, about how dear Captain Arashi would react to seeing him in typical situations,” Shu says wryly. “And I remembered what an incredible actor I am. I’m good at everything, Rei.”'

 

“Yes, of course you are, but that doesn’t change the fact that brothels are no place for you— _either_ of you, but—“

 

“We got a plan,” Mika insists, turning wide eyes up at Rei. “Arashi’ll get all crazy if he sees anyone hurt me, and it’s bound to happen, but Master’s smart and he can handle it without punching anyone.”

 

Rei stares at them both, then drops down into a chair across from Shu. “Explain, thoroughly, or I _will_ make sure this doesn’t happen. For either of you, honestly.”

 

Shu sighs, and leans forward, plucking a candy off the table’s bowl and tossing it to Mika. “I’ll play a high-class procurer,” he explains. “Mika will be transferred, and I’ll set eyes upon him, courting him to join my boutique, high-class brothel of just a few courtesans, up nearer the Capital. We must keep our operation small, of course, so as not to attract attention, which is why my goods are picked so stringently. Mika has caught my eye, so it’s not unusual that I’ll pay for his services on a contracted basis before purchase. The proprietor will want to feel me out and see how much I’ll pay--this may take weeks, and I’ll obviously need a reason to stay around. A Lord come to visit his favorite, by contrast, would be expected to come and go, only spending time on occasional weekends. By claiming it is my profession, I’m allowed to remain close at all times. I’ll likely interview boys in other brothels as well, perhaps also women, for suitability, ensuring that I’m able to move with ease between groups.”

 

He smiles, and folds his hands. “You may praise my planning now.”

 

“Master’s the best,” Mika automatically says, popping the candy into his mouth.

 

Rei briefly shuts his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately, I have no complaints about this plan,” he admits, glancing back up to catch Shu’s gaze. “Except that it puts you directly in the crossfire if you _are_ discovered to not be who you say you are. That’s what I’m trying to avoid. I know exactly how capable you both are, but that doesn’t mean slip-ups can’t happen, and…well, Shu, you _do_ know you’re famous, right? You’ll need to keep up a thorough disguise at all times.”

 

Shu’s mouth twists bitterly. “Hair dye,” he spits out, as if the words taste like unripe lemons. “Fine. That, combined with an accent, plus the sealing of my power, should be enough, don’t you think? I think so.”

 

“I refuse to see your magic completely sealed down there—one of you has to be capable of using it, if the situation demands it. That means keeping a very _firm_ grip on your emotions, no matter the occasion, and no matter how much I enjoy your little purple flames, they won’t do in a brothel.” Rei sighs, reaching over to gently tug on a strand of Shu’s hair. “Maybe a very temporary hair dye, also.”

 

Shu thinks, tapping a finger against his chin, blinking slowly. “Could I go as a wizard? A shiftless Dawncloak, perhaps, dealing on the side in the confusion of the Academy changing hands?”

 

“Ooh, that makes you sound delightfully grungy and terrible,” Rei says with an amused snort. “And it makes my administration sound so questionable, which I find sort of entertaining. Mm, I think that might work. You’re so smart, love.”

 

Shu preens. “Yes, you may praise me a bit more, if you like. It will also explain why any nobles wouldn’t know my titles to hear of them. It certainly does solve everything--I truly am a genius, it seems.” He hesitates, face falling into a scowl. “That means that as your right hand, you’ll only have that cut-rate garbage Keito.”

 

Rei beams, flapping a hand. “It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine! He’s very good at his job, you know, even if the two of you just cannot _stand_ one another. He’s just so efficient, and—“

 

“You _know_ you’re makin’ Master mad. I’m blind and even I can see how you’re wincin’ ‘cause of your bond,” Mika deadpans.

 

“Yes, well, obviously Shu is the best right hand I could have, but Keito works well in a pinch, and I can appreciate both of their talents for what they are. Don’t glare at me like that, love, it hurts.”

 

Shu stands, smoothing his hair down, shooting another glare at Rei as he starts rummaging through his belongings. “Compare me to that...you’ll be starved and burning for me after a few weeks,” he mutters, conveniently ignoring the fact that he, also, will be longing for Rei desperately during their separation.

 

“I’ll be starving myself every day that you’re gone, yes.” Rei rises, reaching for Shu’s hands and drawing one to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “It’s been some time since we’ve been apart,” he softly says. “I’d rather not let you out of my sight, but if you are posing as a low-level wizard, at least I have the power of oversight if something happens. I hate this situation, but I don’t hate your plan.”

 

The idea of being apart from Rei starts to sink in, and Shu turns, blinking stinging eyes. “Mika...we’ll finish later. Go surprise your lover or something, I’m having a melancholia.”

 

Mika nods, hopping up to his feet. “I ain’t gonna let us stay down there for long,” he insistently says. “We’ll get to the bottom of it and leave. Otherwise, I’m gonna go crazy, too.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Rei exhales, and then reaches for Shu again, pulling him towards him. “We’ll still be able to feel each other through our bond. I won’t let that part be sealed down.”

 

Shu snorts. “As if you have the talent and pinpoint accuracy necessary to do something so delicate. I’ll be sealing myself, thank you, and I’ve never had an issue feeling you through my seal. Just...” He lays a hand on Rei’s chest. “We’ll do it as quickly as possible, and I’ll come home to you. _Soon_.”

 

“If anything happens to either of you,” Rei begins, very seriously, “I will probably give into the urge to simply level the Sandlands to dust, like it most likely deserves.”

 

“Yes, yes, you’re a very frightening wizard,” Shu assures him, patting Rei’s head.

 

“You’re so mean to me. Let me kiss you, then I’ll be even scarier.”

 

“Ah, I was petrified, but now I’m just mortified.”

 

“No, you aren’t. You think I’m charming.” Rei bats his eyelashes, draping himself forward against Shu. “Come, my love, I’ll feast on you before you run off on this horrendous adventure.”

 

Shu sighs, though his cheeks color, and he looks up at Mika. “Save yourself, it’s too late for your master.”

 

Mika hesitates near the door. “I mean—I _could_ , buuut…”

 

“Wouldn’t it be _nice_ if I could enjoy both of you?” Rei bemoans, sliding his fingers back through Shu’s hair to pull him in for a soft kiss. “Maybe we should try it again, as practice, considering you’ll have him all over you…”

 

Shu sucks in a breath, his skin suddenly prickling with fire, sending a shiver through him. His eyes dart between his lover and his apprentice, pupils slowly dilating at the thought. “I...I suppose I _do_ hate doing anything without practice...”

 

“Maybe if you go ahead and seal yourself…” Rei wheedles, tilting his head to press a kiss to Shu’s jaw, then his neck, tugging down his collar a bit to let his tongue drag against the thud of Shu’s pulse. “Mmn…you won’t be as bothered by it. And if you aren’t, I won’t be as much, either.”

 

Mika slowly pads his way back over, grabbing for Shu’s hand and nuzzling into his side, peering up at him with—for once—enormous matching eyes. “Mm, mm, then it won’t be so scary if we gotta do it down in the south,” he breathes.

 

“There won’t...be too many people around...will there?” Shu asks, feeling his knees weaken, wobbling back and forth. He lets his head droop to the side, feeling Rei’s mouth brushing over him so sweetly. “Mika...would it be...ahh, shouldn’t I be, I mean...will it be thought of as something strange if what I come to you for is...ah...”

 

“It wouldn’t be unusual for you to have to…mm, ‘test the goods’, so to speak,” Rei hums, slinging an arm around Shu’s waist to steady him as he lightly nips at the base of Shu’s neck. “So I suppose Mika’s right—practice makes perfect.”

 

“It would be fuuun,” Mika gleefully says, grabbing at the laces of Shu’s trousers as he presses closer, stretching up on tiptoe to nuzzle his own face into the other side of Shu’s neck, breathing in deep. “Maaaster~…I wanna make you feel good…”

 

Shu breathes in hard, eyes dilating as he slumps back against Rei, feeling the warmth of him as a steady, stabilizing presence. His hands come up to Mika’s hair, surprised by its unfamiliar texture even when he’s the one who styled it. “Th-this isn’t much of a rehearsal,” he stammers. “I should--I should try leaving the room and coming in again, looking....looking for a, ah, companion...”

 

“You don’t need to go anywhere, love,” Rei murmurs, his teeth catching the lobe of Shu’s ear, tugging on it gently as he squeezes Shu around the waist to keep him on his feet. It’s distracting for Mika to be touching his lover—it always is, which is why they never get past this point—but hunger, at least, is overriding some of that right now, and the fact that they _have_ to try… “He’s lovely, isn’t he?”

 

“Master’s not allowed to leave,” Mika agrees on a sigh, his eyes fluttering as Shu’s fingers thread through his hair. He butts his head against the touch, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of Shu’s wrist, and his fingers make swift work of the laces of Shu’s trousers. “You look like y’need some takin’ care of…if you leave, I can’t.”

 

Some odd pangs tug at Shu. They always do, when someone who isn’t Rei touches him, and he shudders, reminding himself to feel it as a good thing, to feel it as pleasurable rather than simply _wrong_. He breathes into it, closing his eyes, trying to feel Mika’s touch as purely pleasurable rather than confusing and distracting. Rei’s touch helps, and he leans into that, mouth parted, face tilted back, letting a soft moan escape from his mouth. “You...ahhh, be gentle, I’m--Rei, I’m--” _Already overstimulated, please feel it, I don’t have the words--_

 

“Shh, love, shh…” _You’re fine, you’re fine, I’m here._ Shu’s mouth is too enticing to ignore, and Rei bends to claim it, seizing those lips as he grasps Shu’s chin between his fingers. He’s gentle, but that doesn’t stop him from being _thorough_ , his tongue immediately shoving between those parted lips to taste, sucking on Shu’s own when Rei coaxes it to move.

 

Mika hums underneath his breath, pleased that he’s even gotten _this_ far without being pushed away again, and he drops swiftly to his knees, painted nails grazing over the jut of Shu’s hipbones before hooking into his trousers. He leans forward, nuzzling at the inside of one of Shu’s thighs, and tilts his head up to lightly nip at the skin just above that when he tugs clothing down, quickly exposing more soft, pale skin. “You’re all trembly already,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering as he lets Shu’s pants drop to the floor, and noses at his thigh again, his hair tickling over the bare skin. “You’re so beautiful, Master…”

 

A part of Shu still feels, and may always feel, as if he’s far too exposed without the specially constructed underwear he’d worn for a decade, without fail. It’s just so easy for someone to get at his most private areas, something that makes his cheeks flush hot as he meets Rei’s lips. One of his hands fists in Rei’s shirt for stability, the other dropping down to touch Mika’s hair, fingers gently tracing the jeweled sticks holding up the curling mass. His cock twitches, hardening at just a puff of Mika’s breath, and his knees abruptly buckle, making him sit down hard on the edge of their enormous bed. Mika touching him doesn’t feel _bad_ \--it’s like hunger, which feels good sometimes even as he knows it’s not the natural state of things. He enjoys that sometimes, and lets himself lean into this as well, breathing, “If you want to be...worth what I paid for you...you’ll do a good job, won’t you?”

 

Mika’s breath hitches, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip as he scoots closer on his knees, his fingers splaying over the insides of Shu’s thighs. “I’ll be worth every penny,” he murmurs, his breath hot against Shu’s cock before he curls a hand around the base of it. “I swear.”

 

Rei’s hand abruptly slides down, grabbing a handful of Mika’s hair to jerk his head back, making his head fall back with a ragged gasp. “Thank him for the pleasure,” he lowly says, pulling on one of Mika’s curls. “Prettily.”

 

Mika swallows, his chest heaving a little as he looks up at Shu, his fingers trembling slightly. He can’t decide if it’s good or bad that his cock is suddenly _so_ much harder— _good, it’s good, there’s no point in being ashamed about that!_ —and he squirms where he sits, cheeks flushing hot. “T…thank you, Milord,” he whispers, lowering his eyes. “For allowing me a taste of you.”

 

Shu’s eyes flicker with concern, and he looks between Rei and Mika for a long moment before noting the flushed cheeks, the blown pupils. “You like this,” he whispers, stroking Mika’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “You _love_ this, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes, you love to serve your betters, child.”

 

Mika bites his lip before they part again, and he grabs helplessly for Shu’s wrist, lurching up against the hold in his hair to kiss his palm, then the tip of his thumb before he sucks it into his mouth. “Can’t help it,” he breathlessly admits. “I just…I wanna make you feel good, I…”

 

“Give him a taste then, love,” Rei murmurs against Shu’s ear, his teeth catching against the rim of it as he releases Mika’s hair, and instead, lets his fingers skim down Shu’s stomach, dragging down to his cock. “Keep his pretty mouth open, I’ll help you feed it to him.”

 

It still, on some level, feels perverted and filthy to even have anyone touch his cock even now. Shu sucks in a breath through his teeth, thighs parting. He reaches down and whispers, “Just like this, yes? Just like this. Take care of me like I want you to.”

 

Then he grabs Mika’s chin in his hands, reminding himself that he doesn’t have to be clinical and detached on purpose (like he had been so many times before meeting Rei, longing to touch this lovely young thing but knowing how wrong it is), but can grab him with passion, pulling his mouth open, thumb on his bottom lip.

 

A whimper escapes from the back of Mika’s throat when he’s pulled forward and Shu’s cock is guided into his mouth, dragging hard and sticky against his lower lip before he eagerly parts his lips further to aid in swallowing it down. The taste makes him inhale sharply, his eyes fluttering closed with a groan as his tongue drags over the head of Shu’s cock, then along the underside of it, a noisy, hungry sound leaving his throat.

 

“Look how much he likes the taste of you.” Rei’s voice is low as his grip slides away from Shu’s cock to grip his thigh possessively instead. “Can you blame him? You’re delicious,” he breathes, nipping at Shu’s neck again, the tiny drop of blood that he draws quickly lapped up with a flick of his tongue. “He’s just so _pleased_ to have you in his mouth.”

 

“Be good,” Shu groans, clutching at Rei, eyes fluttering shut until he squeezes them closed, toes flexing, sucking in breath. “If you--if you start drinking, I’ll--I can’t pay attention you know it--”

 

Mika’s mouth is sweet and hot, unlike Rei’s in ways Shu couldn’t begin to describe. He’s seductive, sinful, and Shu rocks up into his mouth, biting his own lip. “Mika...ah, no, boy--do your best, serve me the way that would make your master proud.”

 

Mika wriggles closer, eagerly licking, sucking slowly—until Rei’s hand drags down to his hair again, and promptly shoves him forward, forcing him to swallow every bit of Shu’s cock in one long bob of his head. He doesn’t choke, but he _does_ suck in a sharp breath though his nose, his eyes watering and his cheeks flushing to a ruddy, blotchy red as he nuzzles into Shu’s belly, a long, hard swallow making his throat tighten around the cock making his jaw ache.

 

“Good boy,” Rei breathes, petting Mika’s hair as he sucks on Shu’s neck, leaving a dark, prominent bruise instead of drinking—for now, at least. “Make sure to use that pretty mouth well, love. You paid good money for him, remember?”

 

A low, muffled whimper escapes around Shu’s cock, and Mika’s fingers curl against Shu’s thighs as he tries not to squirm, tries desperately not to reach down and touch himself when what leaves Rei’s mouth goes _straight_ to his own cock.

 

“I think he’d have done it for free,” Shu breathes, eyes alight as he looks down at Mika. The odd twanging in his mind becomes a thumping, still more strange than terrible, like an odd non-foodlike smell in food, just enough to usually turn him away. This time, though, with Rei holding him, it just drives him to higher passion, as if the thrill of doing something forbidden is enflaming his desires. He ruts up, feeling the head of his cock bump against the back of Mika’s mouth, dripping over his tongue. “He seems like...that kind of person...doesn’t he, my lord? Will you...be sharing him with me this evening?”

 

The noise that leaves Mika’s throat is _easily_ interpreted as an eager little plead. Rei’s own breath hitches, the natural _need_ to grab someone that pretty and give them exactly what they want warring obnoxiously with his bond to Shu. He growls underneath his breath, forcing himself up, his blood thudding in his ears as he bends to give Mika’s ass a slap. “Up. No, don’t stop what you’re doing, just get off your knees and bend over.”

 

Mika wobbles, pulling off of Shu’s cock just long enough to do as he’s told. He climbs to his feet, trembling as he plants his hands on the side of the bed, his face hot and hair falling over his shoulders as he bends forward over Shu’s cock, his tongue dragging long and wet over the head before he sucks it back down, eager, sloppy noises leaving his throat when Shu’s hips rut upwards.

 

“That’s a good boy,” Rei sighs, hiking up Mika’s robe—and immediately exhales an amused breath. “Nothing underneath? You’re making this too easy.” He plucks at the laces on his trousers, tugging them down enough to free his own cock, already achingly hard, precome beading at the tip. He drags his thumb over the head until it comes away slick, and that’s just long enough for him to find the oil tucked into his pocket. “You’ll be just as good for me as you are for Shu, won’t you?” he murmurs, petting a hand down Mika’s lower back as he pours the oil over his cock, and guides it to that tight, twitching hole.

 

Rei shoves in with one long, unrelenting thrust, and Mika arches up onto his toes, gripping at the side of the bed, a wet, muffled squeal caught up in his throat. He chokes for the first time, swallowing hard around Shu’s cock to keep from gagging, and he breathes hard through his nose, his back arched and legs trembling as Rei bends forward over him to grab Shu’s chin and drag him into a long, filthy kiss.

 

The bond retreats, thudding gently, buzzing in the back of Shu’s mind as he groans hard, thrusting into Mika’s mouth, eyes going white with pleasure as he comes hard. Violet fire explodes around him, tamped at the last second before it reaches anything, and Shu gasps, flopping back onto the bed as he squirms, feeling utterly drained between Mika’s beautiful lips.

 

He reaches out, grabbing Rei’s hands, dragging one of them to his mouth and pressing his lips to that pale skin, watching his lover and his student rutting, fire burning behind his eyes as he tries to contain it. “Make this worth it,” he hisses to Rei, his body burning with passion.

 

Mika swallows noisily, _trying_ not to spill a drop, but it’s impossible when Shu comes so hard, and Rei shoves and pulls on him, leaving him to pull off of Shu’s cock with a ragged, panting gasp, a trickle of come escaping down his chin. His head thunks down against Shu’s thigh, his face flushed and eyes glazed as he rocks with each thrust of Rei’s hips, trembling as his own cock throbs between his legs.

 

Rei grabs Shu’s face, his thumb dragging over that plush lower lip before shoving past them to rub against his tongue. Shu’s bond retreats, a dull, mollified thud, and Rei’s echoes that, content enough with this arrangement that fucking Mika feels _good_ , and he can actually enjoy the way Mika clenches and squirms around his cock, shivering with every rut forward. “It’s worth it,” he breathes, glancing down to watch his cock sink into Mika’s body, another, long thrust sheathing himself inside so entirely that Mika moans and writhes, clawing at the bed. “Between the two of you, I…gods, love, _look_ at him.”

 

The buzzing turns pleasant now that Shu’s cock falls from Mika’s mouth, and he drags his fingers through Rei’s hair, nails raking against his scalp. “Take care of him,” he groans, shifting to the side to let Mika drape over his thighs. “You look so beautiful together, I--”

 

He watches Rei’s aura start to bleed over, and gently lays down a thin, permeable shield over him, just to keep his room from sprouting into flowers. “Go on, child, tell the nice man how much you’re enjoying this.”

 

The noise Mika makes is way less _words_ , far more broken, breathless little whimpers and moans. “I—y…youu…g-god, it’s…”

 

Rei’s hands slide up to squeeze around his waist, and Mika squeaks, whining as he wriggles back, grinding back against Rei’s cock with a hiccuping little moan. “I c-caaan’t…”

 

“Yet you are, and you’re doing it so _well_ ,” Rei gasps, a bead of sweat splattering down from his hairline onto Mika’s back when he shoves forward, hard enough to make Mika’s knees nearly buckle. Just a _bit_ of Shu’s touch is enough to make that thrumming, thudding bond of his relax, to let him enjoy, and thank the _gods_ for that, and that thin layer of magic that stops his own from spreading needlessly when there’s someone so _lovely_ squirming on his cock.

 

He barely lasts another pair of thrusts. Mika arches back against him, trembling where he sprawls across Shu’s lap, and Rei bends forward as he comes, spilling inside with a panting, ragged gasp, his nails biting into those lean hips and leaving deep half-moons in Mika’s skin. A long, shivery breath leaves Mika, and Rei feels his knees completely buckle. “Don’t fall,” he dazedly breathes, sliding an arm around Mika’s waist to keep him from slithering to the ground. It’s only the fear of doing the same that keeps him on his feet, especially when his magic is gently trying to burst the seams of Shu’s shield. “Ahh, you’re a mess, aren’t you…”

 

“Toooo much,” Mika breathes, his eyes fluttering. He feels the aftershocks of his orgasm far more than the orgasm itself, and he flops limply, pawing blindly at Shu.

 

Guilt stings Shu like salt in wounds. He looks away, cheeks pink, unable to meet Mika’s eyes. “Ah. I...I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about your relationship, that was careless and thoughtless of me.”

 

Rei uses the very last bit of finesse he has to gently pull out, grab Mika and toss him into Shu’s lap before he simply flops down to the floor, vibrating slowly. Mika exhales a long, low purr, butting his head firmly into Shu’s chest. “No,” he firmly says. “In a good way. Too much in a good way. Nhhh, Master, let me put it in you next tiiime…”

 

“Drawing a line there,” Rei dazedly chimes in from the floor. “Behave.” 

 

Shu smiles, though the worry doesn’t leave his eyes. He strokes Mika’s hair gently, letting the hair curl around his fingers, kissing his temple as he adjusts them into a more comfortable position. “Just don’t let your two powerful lovers murder me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Finding any of the Mika-Arashi-Izumi trio alone isn’t usually easy. Today, it is at least doable, and Shu corners Izumi in the practice salle, shutting the door behind him in the predawn light. “When Arashi wakes up,” he says quietly, chin held firmly up, “you may need to restrain him. I’m taking Mika down to the Sandlands myself.”

 

Izumi stares at him for a long moment, processing that statement and its many annoying parts. “That,” he finally says, sheathing his sword, “is probably one of the more sensible things I’ve heard about this whole mess. Your idea, I’m assuming?”

 

“Yes.” Shu smoothes his hair back, a smug little smile on his face when he sees that Izumi thinks he’s smart. “There isn’t a single way that Arashi would be able to endure watching other men touch and assess Mika. His acting is simply not good enough. In addition...you can’t tell me you think his reputation in the West could survive a tryst like this.”

 

“It certainly wouldn’t help it,” Izumi admits, raking a hand back through his bangs with a weary exhale. “And he…absolutely can’t stand when anyone else touches Mika, yeah. I’m amazed Rei is letting you go into the thick of it, though.”

 

Shu sniffs. “He knows I’m capable. I came up with a very good idea, and he couldn’t find a better one. Therefore, he can’t stop me, ha!”

 

“Sounds about right.” Izumi worries at his lower lip. “Fair warning—I can’t guarantee he won’t take off to the South himself regardless,” he says. “Arashi’s a fucking idiot. Even if I tell him every reason why it’s a bad idea, he’ll come up with a few reasons why it’s a good one.”

 

“Yes, that’s why I’m talking to you,” Shu says, folding his arms. “Stop him. Distract him. Derail him. Let him know that if he comes bumbling in without knowing the plan, he’ll get Mika killed.”

 

“I’m going to do all of that, and tell him that—but I know him, and it’s only going to work for so long before he gets antsy.” Izumi sighs. “If he _does_ try to take off to the south, I’ll come with him personally to keep his head on straight, all right? But try to get this shit taken care of quickly so I don’t have to. There’s too much going on here.”

 

“Make something up if you have to,” Shu says with an answering sigh. “He’ll just ruin everything. I know you adore him, but _honestly_. He’s about as bright as a sack of hair, isn’t he? I’ll never understand Mika’s taste, let alone the fact that he wound up with two men who...well.”

 

Izumi’s fingers drum against the hilt of his sword. “No, go on, finish that.”

 

Shu raises an eyebrow. “Who prefer him on his back rather than on top.”

 

“Oh. That’s just Arashi, you know, not me.”

 

“Really? How often have you been on your back for him, then?”

 

“…A few times? Listen, you can’t expect me to keep track of this when he climbs me like a tree so often.”

 

Shu closes his eyes, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. “Mika,” he says, quietly and with as much calm as he can muster, “primarily acts in a way that he thinks will force the people he loves to keep him around. Do try to remember that in the future.”

 

Izumi opens his mouth to point out any _number_ of examples that backs up his own experiences—but what’s the use, when Shu knows Mika _infinitely_ better than he probably ever will. Mika might be attached to him, Mika might like him (possibly love him, on any given day), but Mika still is casually closed off to him—and even to Arashi—in a number of ways. “He doesn’t have to do that shit with me, but noted,” Izumi mutters. “I’ll do my best to keep Arashi away. He makes it difficult, sex only works one time out of ten.” 

 

Shu nods curtly. “And I’ll do my part and try to complete this quickly. Speaking of which, we’re leaving immediately, rather than tomorrow as planned. I understand that Mika put something rather strong in Arashi’s drink last night.”

 

“Little shit. Fine, that’ll fell him for another hour, _maybe_.” Izumi flutters a hand. “Get out of here, consider it taken care of.”

 

Shu hesitates, then presses a chaste kiss to Izumi’s cheek. “Keep safe. I expect to return and find you just as beautiful as I left you.”

 

Izumi’s expression is wry, and he gently pokes one of the few hickeys daring to peek out above Shu’s collar. “Likewise. Take care of yourself. There’s nothing good about the South and you’re going into the worst part of it.”

 

“Delightful. But I dislike most places, so this one will be little different.”

 

Despite the words, Shu feels anxiety creeping in as he finishes packing, condensing his clothing down to a single case only because of the spectre of Arashi waking up. Finally he loads his carriage, bids Rei an absolutely-not-tearful farewell, and shuts the door, looking down at his knees as the carriage rolls him and Mika away from the Capital. “Well. Are you quite prepared?”

 

Mika, wrapped up firmly within a cloak that’s at least three sizes too big for him, exhales a short little sigh. “As much as I’m gonna be,” he says, forcing a smile. “Is Izumin takin’ care of the Arashi stuff? I feel bad not even sayin’ good bye, but I dunno what else to do…”

 

Shu looks up, then pats the bench next to him, raising an arm. “Come sit with me, we’ll be warmer. Yes, Izumi is taking care of it, it’ll be fine.” It likely won’t, but Mika doesn’t need that to worry about on top of everything else.

 

Mika immediately scuttles over, snuggling right up against Shu and against his side. “At least it’s not as bad bein’ mostly blind as I thought,” he murmurs. “Turns out, I don’t like seein’ most things anyway.”

 

“Very little in this world is worthy of your gaze,” Shu says with a shrug, tucking Mika under his arm. “I do wish we had more time to plan. I don’t feel good enough to do this, but I will ensure that we’re successful. It’s the least I can do.”

 

“If you’re with me, it’ll be fine,” Mika quietly says, butting his face into Shu’s chest. “I’m sorry you gotta leave Rei, but I’m glad you’re with me.”

 

“We’ve been apart for longer,” Shu assures him, stroking Mika’s hair. “I just hope that your big lug of a lover doesn’t make too much trouble. I think we’ll be able to carry out our mission before anything terrible happens, as long as he stays out of it.”

 

Mika groans, stuffing his face harder against Shu’s chest. “If anyone can make him stay back here, it’s Izumin,” he miserably says. “But even that’s got a time limit. He’s gonna be so mad at me, I hope he doesn’t hate me after this…”

 

“If he hates you for trying to keep him safe while you rescue hundreds of children from slavery,” Shu says dryly, “I’ll have the king string him up.”

 

“Nooo. No. You can’t, I love him.” Mika sniffs hard, trying to make sure he doesn’t cry off his makeup for the fifteenth time. “He won’t hate me for that, he’ll hate me for lyin’ to him and leavin’ without saying a word.”

 

“You two made it several years without even being able to kiss,” Shu reminds him. “And you were usually apart in that time. I hope this won’t last nearly so long.”

 

“Still different.” Mika huffs. “Jus’ pet me, I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

 

Hoofbeats sound outside, and Shu frowns, opening the window and looking out. He blinks, looking back, then nods. “It looks like your assistant is here. I suppose Rei does keep most of his promises, in the end, even if he is a bit late.”

 

“I don’t even want an assistant, I just want you,” Mika bemoans, pulling his cloak on over his head. “Can you deal with it? I don’t wanna.”

 

Shu’s mouth turns in sudden, anxious distaste. His hands wring on his lap, and he sucks in a deep breath before muttering to himself, “It’s fine. I can talk to people. I haven’t met him, but that doesn’t matter. I can talk to anyone, I’m the best at it.”

 

Mika lingers for a moment longer before heaving a sigh, unfolding himself from Shu’s side, and scooting over to the window. He pats around it for a second to find the latch before pulling it open, and sticks his head out, hoping he doesn’t look as tired as he feels already. “Hey, um…Hajime, was it?” 

 

Hajime, perched atop a slender little horse, starts a bit at being suddenly greeted. “Um! Yes, hello, my apologies—I rode all night to get here, I know we’re running behind, but I…”

 

“Master, you’ll like him, he’s your type,” Mika says without batting an eye, slinking back into the carriage. “Make ‘em stop so he can climb in here with us and we can talk.”

 

Shu raps firmly on the front of the carriage, which slows to a stop. He looks askance at the boy entering, then nods decisively, face softening as he scoots over, leaving a space. “Yes, he’s just exactly my type, isn’t he? Ah, you’re incredibly beautiful, hello.”

 

Hajime situates himself into the tiniest ball possible, folding his hands into his lap as he ducks his head polite. “Thank you, Excellency,” he softly says, glancing down with flushed cheeks. “Um, I hope I can be of some use to you both.”

 

“So little,” Mika murmurs, reaching over to pat Hajime’s head. “Geez, I hope you carry a dagger or something, you’re the kind that people get real weird about…”

 

“Oh, um, yes. I have several knives.”

 

Shu’s eyes light up at that, and he folds his hands, though they itch to start taking measurements. “Ah, Mika was right, you truly are my favorite sort. What will be your part to play in our charade, little one? I doubt he’s sending you down to play at being a patron.”

 

Hajime shakes his head, the blush firmly remaining on his cheeks. “Lord Rei…he, ah, he took me in, when I was quite young,” he softly says. “And he sent me south, so that I could work and send money back to my family. I’m…I’m certainly not as experienced, or beautiful, or talented as you,” he says, glancing briefly up at Mika, then away again, “but in this case, I’m…meant to be your, um, servant, or sorts? I’m good with dressing others, and…and with my own experience, if a patron hassles you, I know how to step in and help, s-so…”

 

“That’ll be good, ‘specially ‘cause I can barely see anythin’,” Mika says with a sigh, flopping back against the wall of the carriage. “Good, I’m glad he’s sendin’ someone that knows how to work in this kinda place. I know Master can’t be with me all the time.”

 

“You’ll have to make certain that you use all of your skills to keep him looking beautiful,” Shu lectures immediately, hands moving to touch the boy’s hair, then his face, clinically evaluating him. “You’re lovely, but his beauty must be the main focus, or you’ll take the attention away from him. This is for your safety as much as anything. Now, I can likely take you both as parties I’m interested in, but I likely won’t be able to finance keeping both of you from servicing customers at all, are you prepared for this?”

 

Hajime shifts a little bit underneath the touch, unsure, but his expression doesn’t change as he hesitantly lifts his eyes to meet Shu’s gaze. “This isn’t my first time in a brothel, Excellency,” he quietly says. “It doesn’t bother me, either. Lord Rei asked me to come because he knew I didn’t mind—and he said I could keep part of my earnings,” he adds a bit more brightly. “So that’s helpful!”

 

Shu snorts. “Absurd, you’ll be keeping all of your earnings during this little endeavor. Rei certainly doesn’t need them. I assume you have family that you’re supporting? You have the look of such a thing.”

 

“Y-yes? But it’s…it’s not Lord Rei that wants them,” Hajime carefully says. “He’s not sending us to one of his brothels directly, unless I’m mistaken? He couldn’t, it would be too obvious…”

 

“Probably one of his associates, then?” Mika wearily says, his head thumping back against the carriage window. “Nnn, Master, you ever remember how _bad_ your man is?”

 

“Horrific,” Shu agrees with a little smile. “Absolutely the worst. Boy--and remind me your name--do you know much about the local culture and language, if you’ve worked down there before?”

 

“H-Hajime, Excellency,” Hajime answers, his fingers twisting in his lap. “Um—I’m a little rusty, but—“ He bites his lip, then adds, in stilted, but still quite passable sand tongue—“I can speak it, a little.”

 

“Oooh, you’re not bad at all!” Mika brightly says. “Nice, nice, this won’t be so bad at all, then. I don’t have t’translate all the time, heh. See, Master, this’ll work.”

 

“Indeed.” Shu raises an eyebrow, mentally glaring back at the Academy. “Indeed, it almost makes one wonder why they thought it was so necessary to send you, Mika, when this lovely, capable child was available.”

 

“Because I can’t fetch the price that someone like Lord Mika could,” Hajime says, shaking his head. “Or..or attract actual slavers, I think. I can deal with patrons, but I’m not…impressive, or um, all that good at actually approaching them on my own, unless I absolutely have to…”

 

“Nice, I have the reputation as the _superior_ whore,” Mika dryly says underneath his breath.

 

“I can’t deny that I think you’re the most beautiful one,” Shu says with a sigh, then pats the seat in front of him, gesturing to Hajime. “Your hair is a disaster. Mika, my hair tools.”

 

Hajime blinks, then shuffles to sit as he’s directed. “U-um, thank you very much! I don’t mean to trouble you…”

 

“You ain’t troublin’ him, he likes it,” Mika says, passing the case over before nestling back up into his cloak. “Lucky you, Master, you’ve got your kinda types everywhere.”

 

“And also lucky me, we have several days of time, during which I’ll be able to properly craft this child’s hair to my specifications. Honestly,” Shu says crossly, gentle fingers tugging and threading through the long straight sheet of hair, inexpertly cut, “did you do this yourself with a blunt knife? And no mirror?”

 

“Um…yes?”

 

Shu opens his mouth, then closes it again, and scowls. “Well, don’t do that again. How is everyone supposed to see how lovely you are when you’re hiding behind something so hideous?”

 

“I…I don’t know, Excellency?” Hajime squeaks. “I never really thought about it. If it were up to me, I’d probably just cut it all off…”

 

“That was a rhetorical question,” Shu says with a sigh, “and now that you’ve responded, I’ll have to pretend that you didn’t. Cut it off, when it’s so beautiful? Hold still, this won’t hurt.”

 

“Just let him make you pretty,” Mika reassures Hajime with a pat on the shoulder. “He likes it and then you’ll look _so_ good.”

 

Hajime bites his lip, but does as he’s told, holding still for his haircut. “Thank you,” he quietly says. “I’ll make sure to do my best to keep you both safe.”

 

“He’s the one who’ll be in danger,” Shu says firmly, setting his fingers to start intricate braids in that fine straight hair. His fingers work quickly and efficiently, flying through the braiding, and to distract Hajime, he extends a flare of magic.

 

A tiny glass figure, who stays hidden most times these days, flits out of Shu’s travel bag, landing on Hajime’s knee with a polite curtsy. “That’s Milady. She’ll help you keep watch.”

 

Hajime blinks a few times, and he almost reaches out to touch the figure before he drops his hand. “Ah—she’s beautiful. Any help is wonderful, I’m not a wizard, and I’m not enhanced, so…I’m afraid my talents really are limited…”

 

“During his stay, Mika will be just as limited,” Shu says, finishing one braid and moving on to another. “He’ll be sealed magically, and he’s nearly blind, as well.”

 

“Really? Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, with the way you move…”

 

“I’ve been half-blind for years, this is jus’ a lil step above,” Mika dismisses with a wave of a hand. He yawns, pulling his cloak up and over his head again. “Nn, Master, I’m goin’ t’bed, I didn’t sleep last night ‘cause I was so anxious.”

 

“You may be going to sleep, but I highly doubt you’re going to bed,” Shu says with a long-suffering sigh. “As we are currently quite far from any beds. Mm, leave me alone, I have work to do on this beautiful child.”

 

“Master’s my bed,” Mika sleepily declares, and promptly flops over to pass out across Shu’s lap while he works.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days into the trip South, with warmer weather quickly approaching, the sound of approaching footsteps rouses Mika from his drowsing.

 

“Captain—Captain, you can’t just—“

 

 _Captain?_ That sends a bolt of panic quickly through Mika, and he sucks in a sharp breath, scrambling to sit up, huddled back into his cloak. _Arashi is going to be mad at me, Arashi is going to take me back, Arashi is going to argue and fight with Shu and that’s no good_ —nerves make tears abruptly spring to his eyes, and he frantically looks to Shu, grabbing for his arm. “I’m sorry—I really thought Izumin would be able to keep him back!”

 

Shu grits his teeth, moving Mika behind him, placing himself between Mika and the door. He readies his magic, just on the off-chance that Arashi is _that_ angry, hearing the sounds of the guard being tossed aside as easily as if he weighed nothing.

 

Then the door of the inn slams open, and the figure of a tall, broad-shouldered man stands there, arms akimbo. “There you are!” he cries triumphantly, bounding into the room and stopping just in front of Hajime. “Shinonon!! You left without me, you _promised_ you wouldn’t go back down there!”

 

Shu melts, then quietly grabs a blanket and pulls it over his head before he starts shaking.

 

Mika blinks rapidly, certainly not recognizing the voice as a familiar one, and he hurriedly squishes himself up against Shu, clinging to him tightly—for all the good that does when _he’s_ trembling, too.

 

For his part, Hajime blinks rapidly, staring up at the face of a man he knows very well—Captain Subaru, the head of Rei’s personal guard in High Harbor. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, twisting his hands nervously in front of himself. “Lord Rei needed me,” he blurts out, unable to think of anything better to say. “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you…”

 

“But last time...”

 

Subaru’s face is a mess, stressed and ragged, and he sinks down to his knees in front of Hajime, reaching up to cup his cheeks. Even in the low light, the gentle blue of Hajime’s eyes is enough to make his heart lurch. “Last time I almost lost you. If it was getting that bad at home, you should have told me, I found a lot of coins on the beach last month!”

 

“I-it’s not like that!” Hajime quickly protests, reaching up to grasp at Subaru’s hands, his face burning. “I…ahh…h-he…he asked me to come. It’s…not like it was before, I swear,” he tries to explain, licking at his lips nervously, sparing a glance back to Shu and Mika. “I’m…on a mission for the king. I can’t say much, I’m really sorry!”

 

Subaru’s shoulders slump. “Ahhh, that’s so much worse! If it’s not about money, I can’t stop you, right? But I want to! You’re gonna get hurt again--I’ll come with you!”

 

 _No, you will not,_ Shu wants to say, but his throat is still locked up, and he squeezes his eyes shut, resting his chin on Mika’s head.

 

“You can’t,” Mika blurts out, nervously squeezing his arms around Shu. “I-it’ll blow our cover, Hajime could get hurt.”

 

“He’s right, Captain,” Hajime whispers, squeezing Subaru’s hands. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but you can’t come. We have to go into a brothel undercover, and…and if someone like you is there, that could make it a lot more dangerous.”

 

“But Rei promised!” Subaru almost snarls the words, bringing Hajime’s hands to his chest, holding them protectively. “He said you wouldn’t have to do that anymore! Hey, wizard boy, you wouldn’t want this sweet guy to get hurt, right? I’m gonna marry him, you know? As soon as I get my commission, and I’m allowed to support a wife!”

 

“E-eh? C…captain, you know, e-even though I look like this, I’m still a man—“ Hajime flounders, his cheeks flushing a brilliant red.

 

“He probably won’t have to do anythin’,” Mika manages, swallowing hard as he tries to steady himself. He sucks in a deep breath, unwrapping himself from Shu to stand in front of him instead, his fingers twisting up into his long sleeves. “He’s…he’s just goin’ as my servant. It’s all an act, if all goes accordin’ t’plan, he’ll be fine.”

 

Hajime nods vigorously, his hair swishing forward. “Listen to him,” he pleads. “Lord Rei isn’t making me do anything, I…I’m not going back to that kind of thing again, I just—this is for the king, and to help other people.”

 

Subaru looks suspiciously between Hajime and Mika, then beams. “Well! If you’re really gonna be safe with these guys, then I guess it’s okay! I’ll miss you, though. Hurry home when you’re done!”

 

“…Are you _really_ going to go back up north and let us go to the south?” Hajime skeptically says. “You can’t follow us. I know you want to help, but you _can’t._ ”

 

Subaru’s face falls. “Ahh, Shinonon is too smart, you saw through my plan,” he complains. “What am I supposed to do while you’re in danger?”

 

“I’m not in danger,” Hajime patiently says. “Not really. You should go back to the capital, it would be really easy to check in on me there! I’m sure we’ll be reporting progress there.”

 

Subaru scowls, but nods. “Okay. I’ll come down and check on you if the reports stop, though! Even one day without and I’ll be in the Sandlands in an hour!”

 

“Um—I don’t think it’s going to happen daily? That seems like a lot and it’s a lot further than an hour from the capital—“

 

“Half an hour!”

 

“I think it’s like five days, actually?”

 

“Five minutes! Time can’t keep us apart!”

 

Hajime’s lower lip wobbles. “Saying things like that—I’m sorry for worrying you, I’m really sorry, you s-shouldn’t have had to come down here…”

 

Subaru beams, and lets go of Hajime’s hands, giving him a hug instead. “I’d have ridden a lot farther to see you, though! Ahh, I’d start at High Harbor and go to the Shadowlands to smell your hair!”

 

Hajime sniffles, burying his face into Subaru’s chest when he can’t stop himself any longer. “D-don’t say things like that, it’s so embarrassing! I told you before, I’m not a girl…”

 

Mika exhales a slow breath, gradually calming down himself as he turns around to gently pull up the edge of Shu’s blanket and shuffle underneath it himself. “It should be fine,” he whispers. “I think he’s actually gonna listen.”

 

“I don’t like any of this,” Shu whispers, laying his head on Mika’s shoulder. The loud noises, the surprises, the frightening nature of a man that throws around his weight like that--it’s too easy to remember, for the first time in a long time, people he doesn’t like remembering.

 

“Ahhh, but you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” Subaru teases. Then he squeezes Hajime’s shoulders, and stands. “I’ll wait for the reports. Be safe!”

 

Hajime sniffles again, but nods, scrubbing at his burning cheeks. “O-okay,” he whispers. “Thank you for coming to check on me, but—but I promise I’ll be safe.”

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mika quietly says, stroking his fingers through Shu’s hair to pet him gently. “He’s not coming with us, see? He’s already going. Nnnn, what’s up with us girly lil’ prostitutes liking soldiers so much, huh? We’re dumb.”

 

A moment later, the door shuts again, Subaru’s booted feet clunking away from the door. Shu slowly removes the blanket, staring after him. “He could at least have kissed you goodbye,” he sniffs. “We weren’t looking.”

 

Hajime blinks over at him, wiping gingerly at his eyes. “Eh? Why would he do that?”

 

Mika stares over at him, and even if he’s mostly unseeing, the effect is still there. “‘Cause…you two are lovers?”

 

“ _What?_ ” Hajime’s blush returns, and he covers his mouth with both hands. “N-no! No, no no no, no! We couldn’t be, he’s so important, I’m just a stable boy, that’s—no!”

 

“Doesn’t he want to marry you?” Shu asks, a little more amused than shaken and depressed now. “Clearly he doesn’t mind you being rather...hmm, unimportant, in your own words.”

 

Hajime shakes his head rapidly, the flush on his cheeks somehow deepening. “H-he just says things like that, it’s…it’s a joke! T-the captain’s always been like that, it’s not the same!”

 

Mika’s eyes roll so hard that he wonders if they’ll fall out already. “Yeah, that sounds real.”

 

“Do you love him?” Shu asks, eyebrow raised as he shifts closer to Hajime, letting Milady flit out to sit on his lap again, as the child had enjoyed it so. “I don’t think your young man cares about status much.”

 

“H-he’s not _my_ young man,” Hajime stammers, slinking back and huddling up to watch Milady. “I…he…w-what I think isn’t important, we’re both men, that doesn’t…I mean, I know both of you…but it’s different, you’re both important, it’s…”

 

“Well, there’s your incentive to do well as Mika’s servant,” Shu says abruptly, sending Milady into a tinkling little spin. “If you do well, Lord Rei will reward you, and you too will be important.”

 

“I feel like it’s a lot easier to roll around with other men if you’re a commoner that’s got nothin’ else to do,” Mika complains, flopping back down into his cloak with a yawn. “But maybe that’s jus’ me.”

 

“I don’t want to be a burden to him,” Hajime softly says, glancing down at his hands. “He’s…he’s such a good person. He came all this way to make sure I was safe…I’m not sure I deserve that…”

 

“Why?” Shu demands. “You’re more beautiful than he is. As long as you believe it, he’ll believe it, too. Lift your chin, if you like him, he’d be lucky to have you.”

 

“Captain Subaru is very handsome,” Hajime defensively mumbles. “Next to him, I’m not even close.”

 

“Ahh, there it is,” Mika drowsily says. “Jus’ climb him. Boys’ll fuck you, y’know—“

 

“E-excellency!”

 

“What? They will.”

 

“Given what he’s here to do,” Shu says dryly, “I rather doubt that he doesn’t know that. Are you trying to tell me that he hasn’t even tried, though? Are either of you sworn to chastity or something?”

 

“H…he’s just been like this, always,” Hajime mumbles. “I just don’t think…it wouldn’t be right, trying to drag him into something he doesn’t want…”

 

“Oh my god, he wants to _plow_ you.”

 

“Excellency!”

 

“He _does_ , geez. Anyone can see that. And you’re pretty, who could blame him?”

 

“Child,” Shu says wearily, “in two days, you’ll both be masquerading as Sandlands prostitutes. Start practicing not calling him Excellency and blushing every time he mentions sex, or you’ll get both of you killed.”

 

“Maybe that’s part of his charm,” Mika says with a roll of his eyes. “Suuuper cute and innocent. Whatever, I’m gonna go back to bed, that was too much for one day. I only like soldiers that wanna plow _me._ ”

 

“Crass, but likely appropriate,” Shu mutters, and snuggles into his blankets again. “If someone else blunders in, just smother me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Arashi has seen red many times in the past. Usually, it happens in battle. He prefers that--then he can take out his anger on the enemy, slicing through them, leaving them in tatters.

 

But when the ‘enemy’ is one of his lovers, when the betrayal happens in the place where he usually feels safe and loved, all he can do is try not to cry. The anger still burns in him, but his lip quivers, and he turns his face away from Izumi, voice thick and choked as he manages, “H-he...really thinks I’m useless and brutish, doesn’t he?”

 

Izumi wonders how he ended up here, as the buffer between every other person and their problems.

 

“No, no, you _know_ that’s not it,” Izumi sighs all the same, placing a hand against Arashi’s back, gently rubbing. “More than anything, you know he has to be afraid of damaging your reputation.With this whole marriage thing going on, you chasing after a prostitute in the Sandlands…you _know_ that’s going to cause a stir.”

 

“That’s what I mean.” Arashi wouldn’t let anyone else, even Mika, hear him sound so forlorn. “I should have taken care of all that ages ago. Now he’s going to be in danger, he’s going to be afraid and alone and needing me.....because I was, what, squeamish? Ugh, I _hate_ this, I need cake.”

 

“He has Shu with him, lest you forget—and I think you’re very aware how well they work together,” Izumi says, firming his touch and giving Arashi’s back a thump. “He’ll be safe. He _won’t_ be safe if you go riding in without warning, however, so you’re going to _have_ to stay away, no matter how much you hate it. Believe me, I don’t like it, either.”

 

“I’m useless,” Arashi says glumly. “And fat. And if your lover keeps being good at democracy, useless as a soldier, too.”

 

“You’re not fat, you idiot,” Izumi exasperatedly says, grabbing Arashi by the shoulder to spin him around. “Stop crying, it makes your skin blotchy. You’re not useless, there’s always going to be a need for soldiers, and if you’re smart, you take this time to settle everything about your marriage before Mika gets back so neither of you even have to think about it again.”

 

“Get a girl.” Arashi opens the cupboard against the wall, grabbing a couple of bottles of wine. “I’m serious. Get one right now and watch how useless I am, teach me to get better. Get my mind off of what he’s doing right now.”

 

Izumi opens his mouth to protest, then thinks the better of it and just stares back at him. “Are you sure you don’t…want me to warm you up first? And, uh, don’t drink too much, that’s a recipe for disaster, you’re already fickle…”

 

“You’re not going to be around to warm me up before my wedding,” Arashi mutters, but he sets the wine aside, folding his arms. “Get a girl, you can warm me up when she’s here. We’ll pay her enough to be quiet after.”

 

“I’m absolutely going to be around to warm you up before your wedding, are you insane?” Izumi grouses as he heads towards the door. “You’ll need it. I’ll be right back, I think Kasa’s already got a girl he’d be willing to loan us, and she’s already paid to keep her mouth shut, so it’s a win-win.”

 

He shuts the door behind himself with a long, heavy sigh, wiping a hand down his face. He’d expected Arashi to be angry, but this _upset_ is far more stressful. He tries to shove it from his mind as he starts off down the hall, making a beeline for Tsukasa’s suite. He raps his knuckles against it once, hears the pause of a few telltale activities, and opens it without another moment’s warning. What the hell does a prostitute care, anyway?

 

Except that absolutely isn’t a prostitute, and judging by how Tsukasa scrambles to flip a few blankets over the head of the person instead, this is supposed to be a firmly kept secret.

 

“Are you _shitting_ me,” Izumi deadpans, staring at the pink tufts of hair peeking out from the blankets no matter Tsukasa’s desperate attempts to hide it. “I thought you two hated each other.”

 

“Now is _really_ not a good time, Lord Izumi,” Tsukasa hastily says, yanking up his trousers. “If you would be so kind as to walk out and forget this ever happened, that would be greatly appreciated!”

 

“Get out of here!” a shrill voice orders in a panic, and Tori of the Himemiya household starts grabbing discarded items of clothing, hurling them at Izumi instead of trying to cover himself. “You can’t just barge in--I’ll have you _murdered_ , I’m a powerful wizard and my father could buy you!!”

 

“Why would he ever want to do that?” Izumi dryly asks, stepping out of the way and letting Tori’s cloak fly past him into the hallway. “Anyway, I was _hoping_ you had a prostitute with you, but I suppose that’s too much to ask right now…”

 

“I’ll recommend a number of brothels to you if you _please_ leave,” Tsukasa moans, raking a hand back through his hair before he whips around to snarl at Tori, “Stop throwing things, you’re just making this more difficult!”

 

“Shut up! You’re the worst! I can’t believe I let you even _look_ at me!” Tori shrieks, shoving Tsukasa off the bed, face as red as a tomato.

 

Tsukasa stumbles up to his feet and looks back to Izumi, desperation on his face. “Please don’t—“

 

“Tell the king? Oh,” Izumi says, backing out of the room slowly, “yeah. I’m going to do that.”

 

“No, you _can’t—Izumi,_ please, I—“

 

Izumi quickly slams the door, exhales, and makes a beeline back to Arashi.

 

“So,” he says, poking his head back into the room. “You’re going to need to wait, because Kasa doesn’t have a woman right now, I’m not grabbing the first one I see, and I have to report something to the king. We can go to a brothel tonight, how does that sound?”

 

“Fine,” Arashi says with a sigh, grabbing his boots and yanking them on. “You look like you’ve seen a hilarious ghost, by the way. What on earth did you walk in on Tsukasa doing?”

 

“Fucking Tori of the Himemiya household.”

 

“What about hi-- _wait_.”

 

The gloom vanishes from Arashi’s eyes, and he clasps his hands in front of himself a couple of times with glee. “Really? Like, _fucking_?”

 

Izumi can’t stop himself any longer, and he steps back into the room entirely, shutting the door behind himself. “Yes, like _fucking_ ,” he gleefully says, trying not to burst out laughing. “The little brat started throwing his shit at me like a _lady_ , even—and Kasa just kept saying _please_ don’t tell, _please_ don’t say anything—can you believe it, I knew they hated each other, but—“

 

“We’ve got to tell the king,” Arashi crows. “He’ll be so happy, honestly, he’s been so down lately, Mik--”

 

He’s already half-turned by the time he remembers that Mika is gone, and his face falls again. _No, I can’t do this until he gets home._ He forces his smile back, which is easy when he tries to picture--

 

“Who was on top?”

 

“Kasa,” Izumi says with a snort, grabbing Arashi by the arm to pull him towards the door. “Come with me, this will be entertainment for both of us. I also might need you to help me restrain the king in the event he wants to go gut the two scions of the richest families in the realm.”

 

“Eh? Wouldn’t he just want to tease and blackmail them in turn?” Arashi cocks his head, following Izumi out the door. “Why would he want to gut them?”

 

“Because,” Izumi says, “Kasa is still betrothed to his little sister. This shouldn’t matter, I know, I know, but this is Leo we’re talking about…”

 

“Gods. You’re right. You really do know him the best, eh?” Arashi sighs, setting a brisk pace through the halls. “Well, if you want to marry the Princess, I have a feeling you’re about to get the chance.”

 

“Oh, he’d kill me, too,” Izumi says with a laugh. “If the king had his way, she’d never be wed. Or he’d marry her himself and lock her in a tower so no one could ever touch her, that sort of thing.”

 

Outside of Leo’s offices, Izumi pauses and releases Arashi’s arm prior to nodding at the guards posted there, and knocking once on the door. “Your Majesty? If you aren’t preoccupied, I’d like a moment of your time.”

 

There’s no response from behind the door. After a moment, leaning close, Arashi hears a faint scratching sound. He sighs, and looks at one of the guards. “How long has that sound been coming from there?”

 

“A few hours, sir,” the guard says, trying not to look resigned.

 

“Great. The cleaning staff already hates us,” Arashi says with a sigh. “I hope he’s stuck to the stone, if he’s ruined another tapestry...”

 

“For the love of…” Izumi grumbles, abandoning all attempts to look professional as he irritably shoves open the door and glowers upward. “Leo. What the _fuck_ are you doing.”

 

Leo doesn’t even look up, humming to himself as he sketches notes on the stone floor, eyes dilated, entirely focused. His quill leaves splatters where it moves, and Leo’s hands and (for some reason) his cheeks are covered in dark inky splotches.

 

“Uh...should we try knocking again?”

 

“No, just give me a second.”

 

Izumi strides swiftly over to Leo’s desk, scooping up an entire roll of blank parchment paper, and promptly rolls it out across the floor before he grabs Leo by the shoulders and turns him towards it. “There. Keep it up, just do it there. Ahh, gods, no matter how many times I try to catch him in time, this just _happens_ still.”

 

“Awww, Izumi is such a good wife after all,” Arashi hums, shutting the door securely behind him. “I’ll never understand why he doesn’t just start out on the paper, he’ll never be able to move it.”

 

“Because he doesn’t think in the slightest when he’s in one of these fugue states,” Izumi exasperatedly says, plucking up another sheaf of paper with the thought of copying down Leo’s previous scrawl in mind, but one look at it makes him sigh and give up. Only Leo can decipher that sort of mess, more or less. “At least it’s just on stone this time—a month ago, it was the wall, then a painting, then _another_ painting, and I swear the castle historians were going to eat him alive…”

 

“Aaaaahhhh!”

 

Leo finally notices that there are people in the room with him, and he falls over backwards, eyes wide and startled. “You! Who are--oh, Izumi! And, um, the other one!”

 

“Wow, really?”

 

“He does this,” Izumi sighs, crouching down next to Leo. “Welcome back, Your Majesty. Are you focused, or should I wait until you’ve truly come back to this world?”

 

Leo’s heart thuds against his ribcage, everything swimming strangely before his eyes before it slowly fades back into focus. He breathes, then shakes his head, growling a little. “I’m here, I’m here, nnn. Sorry. Is it urgent?”

 

Izumi’s heart twists, which is a stark, annoying contrast to the irritation that flares up at the same time. _Broken bonds can cause any number of issues_ , Rei had told him when this first started happening. _His behavior is probably the result of that._

 

Knowing that didn’t make it easier, especially when there’s nothing he can _do_ about it. Izumi’s lips purse, and he decides to just be blunt. Sometimes, that’s enough to help snap Leo back to reality. “I found Tsukasa rutting with the Himemiya heir.”

 

The last of the haze vanishes from Leo’s eyes, and he bristles like a tiny, angry squirrel, shooting up to his feet. “ _What?_ Where is he? I’ll kill him! Where’s my sword? No, I need at least three swords!”

 

“Maybe not just yet with the swords,” Arashi says, hand covering his mouth in amusement. “After all, you’re the one who made it legal, Majesty.”

 

“Nonsense! Izumi, get me five swords!”

 

This is _much_ better. “Arashi’s right,” Izumi says, trying not to laugh as he straightens up to his feet again. “He’s not doing anything illegal. I just, ah, heh, thought you might like to know. You can’t kill him, though.”

 

Leo scowls with all the ferocity of a man who’d caught someone smearing feces over his prized possessions. “Exile, then. To somewhere really _nasty_.”

 

“It’s not illegal,” Izumi mildly repeats, already in the process of attempting to tidy up Leo’s office—which is, as per usual, in a remarkable state of disarray after one of his states. “You can’t exile him. If you did that, you’re giving a number of people leverage to do the same to me.”

 

Leo visibly deflates. “Being a king is _no_ fun at all, don’t recommend it,” he groans, flopping facedown onto the stone floor. “Can I at least, I don’t know, send him an angry reprimand letter? Or pull his pants off in public?”

 

“You can send him an angry letter,” Izumi relents, setting piles and piles of papers back up onto Leo’s desk. “But please don’t pull his pants off in public. You’re a king, not a five year old.”

 

“Fine, fine. No fun, but fine.” Leo picks up his quill and one of the pieces of paper, then hands them both to Izumi. “Make it really scary-sounding. Like, imply exile.”

 

Izumi raises his eyebrows and takes a step back. “Uh uh. You want a letter, you write the letter. _I_ don’t think he did anything wrong, you’re the one that’s ready to rip his balls off.”

 

Leo brandishes the paper and pen again, insistent. “Izumi! Write it for me! Your king, it’s me, I’m ordering, grr! I’ll tell you what to write!”

 

“Listen to him growling at me,” Izumi says over Leo’s head to Arashi, entirely unfazed. “Is that what squirrels sound like when they’re angry? Ah, this is your chance, Arashi. You should marry the princess instead.”

 

“No!” Leo snaps, glaring up at Arashi. “My precious perfect little sister is going to marry someone that is a virgin and is going to love her forever without any lovers on the side!!!!”

 

“We fought a revolution to put him in power,” Arashi says with a sigh.

 

“Leo,” Izumi _sweetly_ begins, dropping a stack of paperwork down to spin Leo around to face him, hands squeezing his shoulders. “No nobleman is _ever_ a virgin when they marry. Do you know why? Because noblemen have money, and want to put their dicks in soft, warm things.”

 

“Right, I’m sending my sister to a nunnery. Awwww, she’ll be such a cute nun!”

 

“I’m advising—no, I’m _telling_ you not to do that. Tsukasa or Arashi, those are your marriage options for her, and Arashi is honestly the kinder one at this rate, because he’ll barely touch her and doesn’t that sound more along the lines of what you want?”

 

“But he’s in love with someone else,” Leo says, voice suddenly soft. “And I want her to have the chance to know love. No, none of them will do--I’ll have a challenge of old, an archery contest for her hand! That’s nice and romantic, right?”

 

“I mean...it _is_ awfully romantic,” Arashi says carefully.

 

Izumi stares down at him, and after a moment, finally says, “You’re not allowed to enter.”

 

“BUT--”

 

Leo cuts himself off, then smiles to himself, a sly look in his eyes. “All right. Deal.” _Time to find a fake mustache and big hat._

 

“Or allowed to enter in disguise.”

 

Leo throws up his hands. “What _am_ I allowed to do, then?? Write my letter already!”

 

“ _You_ write your letter,” Izumi firmly says, folding his arms across his chest. “Kasa is a fine match, even if he is fucking that little gremlin for whatever reason. Arashi is a fine enough match, too, so pick your poison. Better either of them than anyone else and no, before you try to ask me again like you do when you’re drunk, I will not marry her and keep her pure.”

 

“But you’re my poison-eater,” Leo says miserably. “I don’t want to pick a poison, I want to pick something awesome. Know what? Yeah, I am going to hold a contest. Then they’ll know that the king is really a man of the people! Ah...I’m going to ask her opinion, first. That sounds good.”

 

“Yes, ask her first, because if some terrible brute enters and wins, that would be very bad,” Izumi says with a long sigh. He stares around at the floor, at the ink splattered and smeared everywhere, and wearily asks, “Do you want to copy down any of this mess onto parchment before I bring the cleaning staff in?”

 

“I’ll get to it. You can have them clean it, it’s the act of writing that helps,” Leo murmurs vaguely, eyes starting to glaze again. He stops them, shaking his head, and stands with a bounce, rocking on the balls of his feet. “I’m going to see my wonderful little sister, you want to come?”

 

“As per usual,” Izumi says, and reaches out to lightly pat Arashi’s shoulder. “I’ll meet up with you tonight, all right? Don’t run off and do anything you’ll regret, or I’ll personally chase your ass down.”

 

Arashi sighs, then nods. “Bring what we talked about, would you? When you show up? I can’t be seen arranging it myself. Enjoy yourself, though.”

 

Leo grabs Izumi’s hand and takes off with him down the hallways, nimbly darting towards Ruka’s room, leaving his guards behind. “I’ve got you,” he says, laughing as he squeezes. “I should have made you catch me!”

 

“Please never do that, it stresses me,” Izumi bemoans, gripping Leo’s hand in a vice-tight grip so that he can’t escape. “You know, Majesty, walking in a calm and dignified manner might be a _bit_ more fitting of a king in this day and age.” It’s moot to even suggest it, but he has to try.

 

“Know who was calm and dignified? My dad. Bad king, though. I’ve gotta keep being the opposite, you know?”

 

“You certainly are the opposite,” Izumi sighs, though it’s hard to keep back even the tiniest of smiles at that. “Unpredictable is probably a better word. Which brings me to my next point, Leo—the idea of a bunch of men fighting over your sister’s hand…you know you’d have to explain to the Suou family why you’re suddenly turning him away, right?”

 

“Nah, I’ll be nice enough to let him explain it,” Leo says with a wink. “Come on, Izumi, don’t you see? He’s good at archery, it gives him a chance to win her back if he really wants to, and then she can see there’s someone out there that would do anything for her.”

 

“I also see his performance anxiety at any given point, especially if you’re there and watching.”

 

“Exactly! That’s when I sweep in with a mustache, and--”

 

“No. Try again.”

 

“Grrrrr!”

 

“It’s _very_ adorable when you growl at me like that, but only constructive if you want me to touch you in a way that’s inappropriate for our current surroundings.”

 

“I always want you to touch me all gross-like,” Leo says frankly, reaching over to pinch Izumi’s arse as he pulls up to Ruka’s room. “My god, behave! Ahh, Rukaaaaa, darling!! Your awesome big brother’s heeeeere!”

 

Just as Ruka’s door swings open, Izumi slaps a hand against Leo’s backside, and greets her with a smile. “Hello, Milady.”

 

The squeak and blush that he’s greeted with is tell-tale, and the door slams shut again. “I-I’m not ready! You’re the worst, brother!”

 

“Whoops,” Izumi casually says, glancing down at Leo. “I suppose you should have warned her.”

 

“You just slammed your door shut on your king!” Leo yells through the door, pressing his whole body against the wood. “Let me iiiiiin, you’re gonna want to hear this! You’re so cute, you’re even cuter when you’re shy!”

 

“Lord Izumi is there, he can’t see me when I’m not properly dressed!” comes Ruka’s hurried, muffled retort. “Go away!”

 

Izumi’s expression shifts to one that’s greatly amused. “Kings probably regularly don’t plaster themselves against their little sister’s door and beg to be let inside, you know.”

 

“Izumi,” Leo says tiredly, sliding down the door, “every time you tell me about what’s normal for kings, I remember that you’ve only known one other, and he was bad! You should have met my great-grandfather, that was definitely not what you’d call normal. Ruuuuuukaaaaaaaa......it’s about your M-word!”

 

“No!”

 

“Now she’s never going to let you inside, O Not-Normal-Majesty,” Izumi mildly says. “Would you like me to try?”

 

Leo waves his hands in utter defeat. “Do your best, but when she gets like this...”

 

“Ruka, your brother is considering new marriage arrangements for you that might involve me.”

 

There’s a long silence, and slowly, the door creeks open, a mix of worry and hope written as clear as day across Ruka’s face. “R…really?”

 

“No,” Izumi apologetically says, stepping out of the way. “But there’s your chance, Your Majesty.”

 

Leo sneaks in through the door in that split-second of hope, snaking his hands over Ruka’s eyes. “Wahaha, guess who it is!”

 

“That’s a mean trick! You’re both so mean!” Ruka sniffs, wriggling away—or at least, attempting to. Once Leo gloms on, he’s fairly difficult to dislodge. “You can’t just say things like that, Lord Izumi!”

 

“Yes, it was very improper of me,” Izumi dismissively says, letting himself in after Leo and dropping down to sit cross-legged in the nearest chair. “But you wouldn’t hear your brother out otherwise, so here we are. Leo, please, she’s not a child anymore.”

 

Leo drops his hands, but squeezes Ruka from behind, kissing her cheek. “I promise, you don’t _really_ want to marry Izumi,” he tells her earnestly. “But if you want, you don’t have to marry Tsukasa either. I thought--wouldn’t it be romantic if I held a tournament to celebrate my coronation, and the winner got to marry you? It’s like in all the great love stories!”

 

Ruka huffs, smoothing down her dress as she looks down at the floor, not entirely able to meet her brother’s—or Izumi’s—eyes. “I mean, that’s romantic, but—but what if someone scary wins?” she hedges. “Or someone you don’t like? Or that I don’t like? Lord Tsukasa is fine, in his own way, but…”

 

“Sorry, I’m still stuck on the fact that you think she doesn’t really want to marry me. Who wouldn’t want to marry me?”

 

“Izumi, you have three children with three different women, at _least_ ,” Leo says with a sigh. “If you think I’d let my precious little sister marry someone like that, you’re an imbecile! Ahhh, if someone scary wins, I have a plan.” Leo winks. “See, I’ll just put on a very cool hat and mustache--”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to let him do that,” Izumi hastens to interrupt.

 

Ruka’s lower lip wobbles, her eyes tearing up now matter how much she tries to fight down the reflexive reaction. “W-w-why can’t I just marry Lord Tsukasa? He’s nice, he’s not scary, I don’t want someone scary to win—“

 

“He’s not good enough for you,” Leo growls. “You need someone nice and pure, who loves you, not some arrogant little lordling that, uh, has a lot of...plants to tend,” he finishes lamely, realizing he’d started the sentence without figuring out how he was going to finish it.

 

“P…plants?”

 

“You’re making her far more upset than Kasa’s going to make her, you know.”

 

Leo scowls, glaring at Izumi as if this is his fault. “Do _you_ think he’s good enough for her?” he demands. “Do _you_ think he’ll treat her the way she deserves?”

 

Izumi sighs, spreading his hands. “I think, that as a princess with limited options and _needing_ to marry a good family, that he’s respectable, with a great name, and with an excellent reputation. He certainly wouldn’t be abusive, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

 

“He’s always a gentleman,” Ruka sniffles, dabbling carefully at her eyes. “Brother, why are you s-suddenly not wanting me to marry him?”

 

Leo huffs, then grabs Ruka in a hug, tucking her head into his chest. “You can still marry him,” he grumbles. “It...it was coming up too soon for me. You know I’m not exactly enthusiastic about letting you go!”

 

Immediately, Ruka throws her arms around Leo, squeezing him tightly around the waist. “It’s not _that_ soon,” she points out with another sniffle. “Broootherrr, you’re so weird sometimes, doing stuff like this makes it seem like you’re _really_ anti-marriage!”

 

“It’s true,” Izumi chimes in. “She’s not allowed to get married, _I’m_ not allowed to get married, _you’re_ not married…”

 

“Yep, I’m very anti-marriage,” Leo says with a cheerful sigh. “Maybe if Ruka-tan married me, that would be the best.”

 

“That’s gross, brother.”

 

“I dunno, I still think you should let Arashi have a chance,” Izumi idly suggests. “Don’t you think he’s handsome, princess?”

 

Ruka’s mouth flaps a couple of times, and she blushes before hiding her face into Leo’s chest again. “T-that’s not important!”

 

“You have low standards,” Leo mutters, though the idea of Ruka winding up with someone who will likely leave her virginity intact forever _does_ have its own appeal. “Hey, do you really want to marry that idiot rich boy? You can have him if you want, but I really think he’s not good enough for you.”

 

Ruka hesitates, fiddling with the lacy ends of her sleeves, not entirely able to meet her brother’s gaze. “Lord Tsukasa has always been nice to me,” she softly says. “And he’s kind, and always a gentleman…”

 

“So he’s the best of the lot you’ve been offered,” Izumi dismisses with a sigh. “Well, then, if you had your way, who would you marry?”

 

The noise that leaves Ruka’s throat is a nervous little squeaking sound, which is _all_ she offers up.

 

“Nnn, yeah, I want to hear this, too!”

 

Leo grabs Ruka by the shoulders, staring into her eyes, looking for truth. “Your big brother would give you anything in the world,” he says seriously. “And we don’t need money, and we don’t need an alliance. I just want you to be happy and cared for. So, who would you marry? He might be king one day, if I die childless, wahaha! And you can’t choose me!”

 

“You’re not going to die childless, Leo,” Izumi wearily reminds him. “Your consort is pregnant.”

 

Ruka shakes a little, resembling a mouse as much as her brother often resembles a squirrel. _Strange, fluffy rodents, both of you_ , Izumi crossly thinks. “I…I really can’t say.”

 

“It’s okay if it’s really me,” Leo whispers, though loud enough for Izumi to hear. “Your awesome big brother won’t tell anyone.”

 

“It’s…it’s not you, brother…” Ruka stares up at him, her eyes enormous and threatening to spill over again at any moment. “If I had to marry a man…it…it would be Lord Izumi.”

 

“Ooh, I’m so surprised. I mean, thank you, princess, I’m flattered.”

 

“But I don’t want to! I—I’m—I—“ One solid blink, and the tears start up again. “I’m in love with another girl!”

 

Izumi pauses, then snorts, rolling his eyes. “Everyone in this family _is_ the same, then.”

 

Leo beams. “That’s wonderful! Ahh, then no man ever gets to touch you, I’m so happy! Izumi, isn’t that wonderful news?”

 

“Sure, if she was actually allowed to marry whatever girl she’s interested in.”

 

Leo’s face falls, but he perks up again soon. “No, this is better, because now you can marry her, Izumi. Because you’ve both got other lovers, it’s good! The thing I was most worried about is that her husband wouldn’t love her back, but now I don’t have to worry about that. It’s perfect!”

 

Ruka lets out a distressed squeak, and Izumi straightens up where he sits. “Leo,” he slowly begins, “you realize that if I marry her, that _is_ the sort of arrangement the entire realm has either wanted or tried to avoid for _years_ , depending on how much they like the North. It also means we would absolutely have to have a child together.”

 

Leo opens his mouth, closes his mouth, then throws up his hands, striding from the room. “I’m sick of this conversation,” he snaps. “Ruka, do whatever you want, Izumi, stop her. I’m going to ride my horse.”

 

Izumi bites down on another sigh as he hurriedly climbs to his feet, following after Leo when Ruka swiftly throws herself down onto her bed into a heap. “Arranged marriages are meant to be simplistic, you know,” he starts with. “How about let’s keep it that way—you reap the benefits of the Suou family’s money, Ruka has a man that only _occasionally_ fucks wizards…”

 

“I expect your letter to be very cutting,” Leo says moodily, shutting the door gently behind him. “Make sure he at least _thinks_ he’s going to be exiled. Not so much that he tells his father, though, that’s a whole other issue. See, I can think about politics.”

 

Resigned to the idea of letter writing at this point, Izumi just gives up and nods, reaching out to ruffle Leo’s hair. “Cut the kid a little bit of slack. He’s honestly terrified of you as much as he wants to _be_ you.”

 

“Not scared enough not to betray my little sister before they’re even married,” Leo grumbles. “Honestly, why can’t everyone just be honest? I don’t love women, so I’m not going to marry one, and then no one gets hurt. Ruka should be able to live with a pretty lady and hold each others’ hands forever, and she’ll die a virgin, which is _great_.”

 

“…That’s very idealistic of you, and charming, in its own way, but knowing that she likes ladies makes a lot of things about her make more sense now, so first ofall—I doubt she’s a virgin.”

 

Leo snorts. “She doesn’t like men, Izumi! I doubt she’s taken one to her bed!”

 

Izumi stares at him, and lightly swats the back of Leo’s head. “Dumbass. Even if she doesn’t like men, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a lady to fuck her.”

 

Leo doesn’t flinch with the blow, but blinks in confusion. “Can you maybe...back up and say what you said, but again, and with words that are going to work in my head?”

 

Izumi leans closer to him, put out. “You know how you like my fingers in you? Girls, too, have fingers, and can put them in _other_ girls. And that’s just if they aren’t being creative.”

 

Leo’s eyelids close slowly, and then open wide. “Girls....do that? But--but if they like something in them, doesn’t that mean they like men? You’re good at explaining, explain that!”

 

“I’ve met plenty of women that want to put something in a _man_ ,” Izumi wryly says. “And plenty of men that only like men that also _don’t_ want something in them. So with that in mind, I don’t think that kind of preference determines whether someone likes men or women. I think people just do what feels good.”

 

“Oh.” Leo wrinkles his nose for a moment, then shrugs, expression clearing to a beatific smile. “Girls are soft and gentle, so she’ll be safe with them, though. Don’t...don’t you think?” His eyes are suddenly worried, and he links his fingers through Izumi’s. “Like I’m safe with you?”

 

“I think,” Izumi says, squeezing Leo’s hand within his own, “that you need to worry less about your little sister, when she clearly has figured out what she wants and how to make it happen. But to answer your question—yes, girls are soft and gentler than men, who are disgusting pigs at best. She’ll be fine.”

 

“So I have to...do something? Or leave her alone? I feel like I always do way too much of one and not enough of the other,” Leo says with a sigh, wiping his face with his free hand.

 

“Leave her be unless it turns into a bad situation.” Izumi pulls Leo’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Leo. She’s fine. With Tsukasa, without him, she’s fine. Leave her be, let Kasa dangle for a bit, and call it a day. We’ve got enough to worry about without stressing over your little sister who is doing okay.”

 

“Yes,” Leo whispers, “but if I let this go, I have to think about sending two of my dear friends into danger, and a thousand children I’m responsible for in slavery.”

 

“Yes, well…” Izumi exhales, his shoulders heaving in a shrug. “Welcome to being king. At least I’m here thinking about it with you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Arashi of the Sharps sticks out his chest, gleaming with a shiny new chain, conveying his new status. There’s a swagger in his step, though it fades as soon as he gets out of eyeshot of the fancy, important nobles who had been singing his praises.

 

Certainly at the time, it had sounded more than exciting to be chauffeured to the Capital, to be honored by the King himself, and to be awarded a Lordship of his own. In the moment, however, it mostly feels terrifying. All of these people are far older than his fourteen years, and most are not shy about making their feelings towards his new status known.

 

A relaxing ride--that’s what he needs. He ducks out of the festivities, pulse pounding, heading for the stables. His horse, a gorgeous, golden creature called Lightfall, doesn’t give her usual whicker and paw of the ground at his presence, which makes Arashi frown. “Lightfall?” he calls, walking forward, his instincts stinging him that he’s not alone. He reaches the stall, then peers down, blinking at the sight of a young girl, curled up in the corner, rocking herself back and forth, dark hair falling all around her. “Ah...are you a stablehand?” he asks softly, trying not to spook the child.

 

The head full of long, dark hair jerks up, and in the dim light of the stall, a single golden eye peers out from the messy drape of his bangs. The boy trembles, clutching at his own ankles where he’s curled up, painted fingers shaking before he retreats further underneath his hair, underneath the heavy fall of his cloak, barely uttering a squeak in response.

 

Arashi’s breath catches at the sight of that single, golden eye that says _magic_ as clearly as if the girl had screamed it. He frowns, then jumps the door, landing softly on booted feet. They’re a lot less wet than he’s used to, now that one of the king’s clothiers had been instructed to outfit him properly, so he could be presented properly in court. He hadn’t even realized how wet his feet have always felt until proper leather seals out every puddle. If this is how nobility walk all the time, no wonder they walk so tall, without any sores or blisters.

 

He crouches down, but doesn’t reach out a hand, not yet, as if he’s approaching a nervous baby animal. “Are you running away from someone?” he asks, not entirely sure why, except that he sort of recognizes the posture from long ago.

 

Hesitantly, that head lifts again, recognition almost immediately dawns across the boy’s face—along with anxiety, and no small amount of wariness. “I…” The boy swallows, licking at his lips, shifting nervously. The fluffy fall of his hair shifts when he trembles hard, revealing the stark, brilliant blue of his other eye, shockingly mismatched and mostly unseeing. “I…I want to,” he whispers, his voice soft, and heavily accented. “But I can’t.”

 

Arashi rocks back, suddenly doubting his first assessment of _girl_. “You’re...from the Sandlands,” he says softly, in what he hopes is a gentle tone. “If you escaped a master, I won’t turn you in, I...”

 

Memory stirs.

 

For the first time in long years, Arashi remembers the look of that little boy, the one that had haunted his dreams half a lifetime ago, the skinny child in gaudy silks with blood gushing from an empty socket, standing at the center of the worst destruction that city had ever seen.

 

The boy’s lower lip trembles. “N…not a master, not th’ way you’re thinkin’, I…”

 

 _It’s not like I can ever really run away, not now, not from the Academy._ He shakes, grabbing at the long hems of his cloak to pull it more tightly around himself. “J-jus’ ignore me, I ain’t gonna get in your way.”

 

Arashi refrains from saying that the child is already in the way, since he’s nervous about his horse stepping on him, but bites that back. “Ah, I couldn’t walk away when you look so sad. Do you need any help? Food? Tell big sister what’s wrong, huh?”

 

Too late, he hears himself, and remembers that he’s supposed to be a nobleman now, and that noblemen don’t get to let their guards down and say things like that. “I, ah,” he says, clearing his throat, “mean...”

 

That mismatched gaze flickers up again, looking over Arashi from top to bottom. Arashi _definitely_ looks like a man, and a fancy noble one at that, but he’s still not quite as scary as the ones he’s been having to deal with. “You’re a noble, aren’t you?” he whispers, wriggling back into his corner a bit more. “I can’t tell you nothin’ or you’ll get in trouble for even talkin’ to me.”

 

“I’m not a real noble,” Arashi says quietly, looking up at the space above the stable door, hoping no one comes in looking for either of them. “I was a carpenter’s son this morning. I’m Arashi, by the way. What’s your name?”

 

“…Mika.” The boy fiddles with his cloak again. “Y’don’t look like a carpenter’s son,” he softly says. “But maybe that’s why you’re not as scary as everyone else here.”

 

“I’m not scary,” Arashi assures him, and drops down to sit on the stable floor, regardless of the filth. “Ah, but I bet my enemies wouldn’t think so--I’ll definitely protect you from anyone bad, okay?”

 

Mika’s toes—also painted, and entirely bare, which he’s unconcerned about even in the stall—wiggle slowly. “Y’can’t really protect me,” he says, not accusatory, but very much like he’s stating a well-known fact. “Not from the Academy. I’m…” He hesitates, glancing aside, towards the stall door as if someone could come find him at any moment. “I’m hidin’ from my keeper. The capital’s scary, the nobles here are mean, I…I don’t wanna do stuff for them.”

 

_The Academy._

 

That changes things a little. Arashi reaches out for the first time, resting a gentle hand on Mika’s head. “You look too small and cute to be a wizard,” he says frankly. “Sorry, I just really love cute things, I have an instinct to protect them.”

 

Mika squeaks, flinching back on instinct, though he can’t get far with the walls behind him. He shakes, staring up wide-eyed through his bangs at Arashi, a hesitant hand half-lifted to grab Arashi’s wrist before he rethinks, too scared to touch. “Y…you think I’m cute?”

 

Arashi pulls back his hand guiltily. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m not...I’m not trying to do anything? I just really thought you looked cute. And sad, and I wanted to make you happy!”

 

Mika looks back at him nervously, but he doesn’t shrink back again. “…no one tells me I’m cute,” he eventually says, glancing down. “Jus’ creepy. I mean, that’s okay, too, but…mm…”

 

“Eh? What’s creepy about you?” Arashi shifts slightly forward, face concerned. “I don’t think you’re creepy at all. You’re one of the cutest, ah, kids I’ve ever met!”

 

 _Kids? Aren’t you a kid?_ Mika blinks back at him. “ _Everyone_ says I’m creepy,” he says. “Not cute. It’s prolly ‘cause of my eyes. Maybe the ghosties, but mostly my eyes. Um, it’s weird for someone as pretty as you t’tell me I’m cute.”

 

Twin spots of color appear on Arashi’s cheeks, and he looks away, hands clasped in his lap. “Oh...you think I’m pretty? I think you’re _very_ cute, I’d put you in my pocket and squeeze you until your eyes popped out, you’re so cute. Now, how do I protect you from your keeper?”

 

“Mm…you’re like, th’ prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” Mika honestly says. “‘Specially this close.” He unfolds himself a bit more, starting to relax in spite of himself when Arashi does normal human things that nobles usually don’t do, like blush. “I wish y’could make my eyes pop out and go away. Mmn, y’can’t keep me safe from my keeper, but I wish y’could. I…I wanted to run away, but they’ll find me, and if they don’t, they’ll send someone who can, and that’s the scariest.”

 

That sends a shiver down Arashi’s spine. The dread, the certainty with which Mika says it makes him grimace. “Hey, but if you’re at the Academy, I’m going to be around the Capital a lot, it looks like, so maybe I can keep you safe when I’m around? I promise, no one will ever hurt you while I’m around.”

 

“You ain’t got no say in it, though.” Mika’s toes wiggle again. “The Academy sold me to th’ capital. I mean…they don’t call it that, but that’s what they did. I gotta stay here and do what they say. They want me to do a lot of bad stuff, I don’t wanna.”

 

Arashi’s brow furrows, and he leans forward, head cocked. “They can just...force you to do stuff? I thought wizards were really powerful, and you could just...make people like that go away?”

 

Mika shakes his head slowly. “Uh uh. Not when the Emperor himself’s the one that hates me.”

 

“I don’t know how anyone could hate you,” Arashi says honestly, and he can’t help himself, and reaches out to pat Mika’s head again. “Well, if you’ve got to go back no matter what...do you want to go for a ride first? Better than sitting in a horse stall, eh?”

 

Mika trembles a little, but it’s less than before when Arashi touches him. “…Is…is that okay? I don’t mind th’ stall, I’ve been in a lot worse places and your horse is pretty.”

 

Again, Arashi flashes back to that fateful day seven years ago, and he’s more certain than ever that this sad young wizard is that terrified little boy he’d seen. “I think your eyes are really cute,” he blurts out, standing and extending a hand. “Come ride with me, either in front or in back. Have you ridden before?”

 

“…A little.” Mika worries at his lower lip with his teeth before he finally reaches out, taking Arashi’s hand less in a way that helps him pull himself to his feet, more in a way that involves actually twining their fingers together. It’s been weeks since he’s seen his master, and even this little bit of intimacy makes tears spring to his eyes, which he covers up by swiftly blinking, and pulling his bangs back over his blue eye. “Everyone says my eyes are weird,” he softly says. “Except my master. And now you.”

 

“I mean, what’s weird but different? And they’re definitely different, you know?” Arashi smiles, then saddles his horse, swinging up and extending a hand down. “We’ll be quick. I just, mm! Want you to smile a little, all right?”

 

Mika takes Arashi’s hand again, letting himself be pulled up behind him. The horse shifts underneath him, and Mika clings to Arashi’s waist, burying his face into his shoulder. “Warm,” he mutters. “And y’smell nice.”

 

Arashi’s heart thuds. Despite what Mika says, it’s he that feels warm, that he smells good, and Arashi relaxes back into that sweet, comforting warmth. He reaches down, unlatching the the door and nudging Lightfall out, hooves making a suddenly different sound on the cobblestones. “You’ve got a cute accent,” he offers, wanting to know if he’s right. “Have you been up here long?”

 

Mika’s hold tightens. Horses aren’t exactly his specialty, but Arashi is steady (and as aforementioned, very warm and smells very good), so this isn’t _so_ bad. “T…thanks,” he murmurs self-consciously. “I’ve been outta the south for years. My common tongue’s still kinda bad, though.”

 

“Either someone is telling you lies,” Arashi says, hands tightening on the reins, “or you’re telling yourself lies. Your tongue...I mean, you speak the language very well.”

 

“Nnn, but words are hard, I forget ‘em a lot,” Mika sighs, stuffing his face into the trailing ends of Arashi’s hair at the back of his neck. “You’ve been south before, haven’t you.”

 

“When I was little,” Arashi admits. “I spent a year fostering there, learning to be a courier. They start training early for that kinda thing, where I’m from. It was...interesting, for sure.”

 

“I thought so.” Mika slinks forward a bit more, hooking his chin over Arashi’s shoulder. “Not a lot of people have an hourglass that looks like yours…nn, but you were real little then, now y’look like a prince.”

 

Arashi turns his head, looking over his shoulder. “Hourglass?” he asks, pulse pounding as he leans back against Mika’s warmth. “What does that mean? Is it a wizard thing?”

 

“Kinda. It’s a me wizard thing, I see stuff weird.” Mika’s fingers lace together as he squeezes Arashi’s waist, snuggling up against his back. Weeks without human contact make him clingy, he knows, and Arashi doesn’t seem to find it annoying, so… “Not important. Where are you from?”

 

Arashi tenses slightly when Mika squeezes him, but the fear that usually takes him when someone touches him doesn’t manifest. Instead, he actually feels himself relax. “Canveras, in the West. Mm, see those steep mountains over there?” he asks, pointing. “Ah, it’s kinda hard to see now, but when it’s clear you can see the tops. I grew up just on the other side of those.”

 

“Nnn, sounds cold,” Mika complains, rubbing his face against Arashi’s shoulder. “Mountains are scary. Never been, don’t wanna. I’d fall off the side.”

 

“We don’t live on the peaks,” Arashi says, smiling. “They’re too steep. We live all around the bases. And we put up very slanted roofs, so if anything falls off the tops, it doesn’t cave the roofs in. The kids in my village, we’d make a game of it, stick spikes into our worst boots and see who could make the highest mark on the sides. I got up to a hundred meters, once. That was the highest in our group.”

 

“Scary,” Mika repeats, but he snuggles against Arashi’s back more all the same. “You’re real strong, aren’t you? Are you a knight? You look like y’could be a knight.”

 

“You have to be a noble to be a knight,” Arashi scoffs. “Even if the king and the nobles like me right now, I grew up in a house with a mud floor, you know? I mean, I’m not poor now or anything,” he says hurriedly, nervous that Mika is going to think he’s base, disgusting, and why had he said that, anyway? “And all these clothes are new, don’t worry, it’s all clean.”

 

“I grew up in a brothel, everyone here’s fancier than me,” Mika dismissively says. “Aren’t you gonna be a noble now, though? Then you can be a knight, or somethin’ jus’ as cool. I mean, don’t tell anyone, but I met the prince for like, five minutes th’ other day, and I think you’re prettier.”

 

Arashi’s cheeks flush, and he ducks his head. “Ahh, you think I’m pretty? Really? I’ve never met anyone like you, you know. I’d...I’d rather someone like you think I was pretty than that whole room full of nobles think I was handsome,” he admits quietly, as if someone is going to overhear him. “Eh, I know I shouldn’t say something like that, but you...you won’t tell, will you?”

 

“I don’t wanna talk to any of ‘em, so I ain’t gonna tell,” Mika cheerfully says. “I think you’re handsome, too, but in a different way. Best of both words, y’know? Ahh, sorry, I’m ramblin’, jus’, mm, nice pretty people usually don’t talk t’me.”

 

“That’s a shame,” Arashi says bluntly. “You’re better to talk to than anyone I met in the Capital, and anyone at home, too.” He laughs, a little embarrassed. “Are you sure you’re a wizard, and not an angel?”

 

“Nnnh, don’t ask that, it’s embarrassin’!” Mika complains, stuffing his face back down into Arashi’s hair. “I’m a creepy wizard, that’s why I got sold t’th’capital. I don’t wanna be here. Take me west or, or wherever it is that you wanna go.”

 

“All right!”

 

It’s probably a measurement of that madness he’s been accused of that Arashi doesn’t even hesitate. He turns his horse, and grins, heading towards the mountains. “My ceremony’s over anyway. I’m important now, I can take care of you. I’m supposed to get a huge present from the king, I bet I could use it to buy your freedom if they ever find us.”

 

“E…eh?” Mika blinks, clutching tighter to Arashi’s waist suddenly. “Wait—really? Ah, I mean, n-no, you can’t,” he quickly backtracks, though the way he clings to Arashi directly contradicts his protests. “We can’t, we’ll get in trouble, y’could get killed—y’can’t buy my freedom or anythin’, I belong to the Academy and I gotta do what they say.”

 

“Mm, but you asked me to,” Arashi says with a shrug. “I’m not scared of the Academy, aren’t they just a bunch of scholars? I used to run messages for them, they’re all pretty weak-looking.”

 

Mika shakes his head. “The wizards are th’ scary ones,” he softly says. “The ones that track us down if we don’t behave. Even right now, I could get in trouble. They don’t like it when we even touch regular humans, it’s real stupid.”

 

“That’s crazy,” Arashi mutters. “You can’t even ride around with someone like me? I’m not gonna hurt you. And I’m a noble now, the king said so.”

 

“They think wizards havin’ friends or any kinda relationship is bad. If it were up to them, we’d never even get to take our clothes off, y’know? Which’s real dumb, if it were up to me, I’d jus’ be naked all the time.”

 

Whatever else Arashi was about to say, it dies in his throat, and his hands twitch nervously on the reins. The blunt words coming from that innocent-looking face, behind those sweet eyes, make him feel kind of gross, with how young this kid must be. “They’re awful if you’re not allowed to have friends. Friends are important, right? I...I’ll be your friend. I’ll keep it a secret if we have to.”

 

“We’re already bad at keepin’ it a secret,” Mika idly points out, but he nuzzles his face into the back of Arashi’s neck all the same. “Mmm…why’d you get promoted to be a noble? I bet it was a war thing, you look like you can swing a sword real good. If you get an army, ask for wizards, I’ll come and be your wizard. _Then_ it’s like we’re runnin’ away without the scariest bits.”

 

“Oh.” Arashi considers for a moment, then nods slowly. “Yeah, it was a war thing. I...do you want to hear about it, or is that too scary for a delicate kid like you?”

 

“I’m not a kiiiid,” Mika huffs, his pout audible. “You can tell me, did people die?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The words comes out soft, and Arashi looks out over the road, across the Sharps. “I talked my way in to squiring for Lord Korlet. He was the Lord I grew up under, but it’s not like I knew him, I just kept asking and his fancy squire was late to show up. The King sent us into Ingling territory--they’re the creatures who live on the other side, they’re _awful_ \--and it was...bloody. Bad. My whole squad got slaughtered by snogs, they’re these awful--they’re poisonous, snake-dog kinda things, they’re huge and scary. Lord Korlet got shot in the neck, then the eye. I almost lost my arm, but I endured it, and managed to get the lines reformed.”

 

He breaks off, laughing at himself. “Sorry, too much war talk?”

 

“Mm, no.” Mika shakes his head from where his face is still pressed into Arashi’s hair. “You’re awfully brave. But wrong about one thing. Snogs are cute.”

 

“Eh? When did you see a snog?”

 

“In books about creatures ’n’ stuff. People draw ‘em and they look real cute. I made a stuffed toy of one once, my master made it a dress.”

 

Arashi tries to imagine a snog in a dress. It doesn’t work out too well, and he snorts. “That’s really weird, but adorable that you think like that. You don’t want to meet one in real life, you know. They’re really scary, and super fast.”

 

“I’d jus’ blow it up if it was mean,” Mika dismissively says. “But I bet they’d still be cute.” Against his better judgement, he keeps going. It’s a bad idea, a _really_ stupid, bad idea, but he’s been cooped up for too long, without Shu for too long, and the longer he keeps inhaling how nice Arashi’s hair smells… “Mm, and even if they aren’t, you’d still rescue me. I bet you’re reeeal dashin’ when you’re actin’ like a soldier~…”

 

Arashi feels his face heat up, and he looks up towards the Sharps, slowly fading in and out of view in the fog. “I’ll always rescue you,” he vows. “No matter what. I’ll keep you safe, even if it costs my life. I almost died last month, I’m not scared of dying anymore.”

 

Mika’s heart thumps fast and hard, and his thoughts start getting stupider. “You’re not allowed to die, though,” he mumbles. “You’re too nice. And pretty. Not allowed.”

 

“Everyone dies, though. I just...” Arashi smiles, an oddly contemplative, faded expression. “I just want--can I tell you a secret?”

 

“If I was your wizard, I wouldn’t let y’die,” Mika murmurs. “Tell me stuff, I ain’t gonna tell no one.”

 

“I believe you.” Arashi breathes in, then exhales slowly. “I just want to live without lying first, just for a little while. I feel like everyone who knows me just sees what they want to see, not who I really am.”

 

“Mmm…that’s no good.” Mika leans back, just a little, enough to look at and contemplate the nice shape of Arashi’s back. “You gotta have someone you can be honest with.”

 

“You should be my friend, then.” That sounds good, and Arashi nods to himself. It’s easier when he can’t see the other boy. “One that I can always tell the truth to. And you can do the same for me.”

 

“In the Sandlands,” Mika conversationally says, “we’d kiss, if we were friends.”

 

_In the West, we’d die if anyone saw that._

 

Arashi doesn’t say that, though, because he thinks Mika is hinting that they could possibly...kiss? “I mean, I don’t want to say that we’re not friends,” he says cheerfully, and turns in the saddle.

 

“There you are.”

 

The words sound exhausted and ragged, but imperious nonetheless. A tall man in flowing, inky-black robes, with soft pink hair pinned up and back around his face, stands in the middle of the road, with no sign of how he’d arrived. He folds his arms over his chest, eyes locked on Mika, ignoring Arashi. “I won’t reprimand you if you come back now.”

 

Mika squeaks, clinging harder to Arashi as if that’ll make it easier to hide behind him more than he already is. “Master! What are you—um! I wasn’t goin’ anywhere! I jus’, um, I, I made a friend, it’s fine!” _Even though it’s better that you’re here, I was about to do something really stupid._ His heart thumps raggedly at the mere thought.

 

Shu waves a weary hand. “Come down from there, Mika. I don’t want to go back either, don’t make this more difficult than it is. I’ll cleanse you before they can pick up your new...friend’s signature on your aura. Were you going to leave me all alone there? You know I’m not well enough for this kind of thing right now!”

 

“I wasn’t gonna leave you! We just…he jus’ wanted to take me for a ride, I got scared and was hidin’ with his horse!” Mika’s lower lip wobbles, and he shoves his hands underneath Arashi’s shirt, all but trying to climb into it with him. “He’s good, we didn’t do nothin’, I swear!”

 

“Hey, calm down,” Arashi says, suddenly alarmed, shifting to put himself between Mika and the mysterious man. “Is this the guy that’s been telling you what you can and can’t do?” The guy doesn’t look so scary, he thinks, and his hand twitches towards the belt where he’s just recently started wearing a sword.

 

Shu stares, unimpressed. “Who is this imbecile? Honestly, Mika, if you make me waste any more energy on this today, I’ll blame you, you know.”

 

“Don’t threaten him,” Arashi warns, then flinches suddenly back as violet flames burst into life around the man. His horse rears, and he instinctively grabs for Mika, making sure he’s safe, before calming the stupid beast.

 

Mika clings hard to Arashi, trembling when the horse’s hooves hit the ground again. His breath hiccups, and it takes effort to keep his own magic from flying off of him in sparks, to the point that his head aches and his vision blurs. “H-he’s my master, n-n-not any of the mean people from the Academy,” he whispers. “I…I should go, I d-don’t wanna get you in trouble, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

 

“Shh, shh, you’re fine.” Arashi turns, petting Mika’s hair gently. “It’s fine--I said I’d make sure no one hurts you, right? I hate seeing you scared, please don’t cry.”

 

Shu moves closer, extending a hand, face grim. “You don’t want to get him in trouble,” he says, not as harshly as he probably should. “You know how many sensitives there are around here, not to mention the Watchers.”

 

Mika’s gaze nervously flicks around, as if just by looking for them, he can see all the people that might be potentially spying on them. “I…I know,” he mumbles, still shaking as he clings to Arashi for a moment longer before he forces himself to loosen his hold, ducking out from underneath the touch to his hair before he slides off of Arashi’s horse and back onto his feet. “It’s not fair,” he quietly says, taking Shu’s hand. “’s not like what we were doin’ was bad.”

 

“I know.” Shu leans over, pressing his lips to Mika’s hair--not a kiss, not to his scalp, but just a fleeting brush, not enough to set off any Watcher. He’s careful, now. He must be. His mind quivers still with just the thought of being caught for a single infraction, no matter how minor. “I need you to get me back to the Capital, I used all my energy to find you.”

 

Arashi looks unhappily between the two of them, then takes a deep breath. “I’m going to get my own army,” he says quietly. “And then I’m going to request you to help me. So be ready to leave soon, all right?”

 

Mika clings tightly to Shu’s hand, even as he turns his head to look back at Arashi, a strange mix of wariness and intense need flickering in his mismatched gaze. “Okay,” he finally, softly says, then drapes the deep red of his own cloak around Shu, pulling him closer before they’re both gone without a trace.


	7. Chapter 7

Getting an Army sounds good, sounds easy, and sounds like the way Arashi wants to achieve something with his life. However, it isn’t _quite_ as easy as it sounds, so for the past eight months, he’s lived in the Capital, running messages between the Capital and the Academy, making contacts, building the strength in his legs, and courting the best military minds around.

 

Of course, that leaves many of his evenings free. And by now, he knows the Academy as well as anyone, and that makes it easy to sneak into the hallway where Mika lives, hood up, cloak closed, knocking softly on the door with one hand, other hand clutching a large leather satchel. “Mika?” he calls, very softly. “It’s me.”

 

They may not get to meet often, between his duties and Mika’s lessons, but it’s certainly often enough that Mika should recognize his voice.

 

The door opens almost immediately, with Mika’s wide-eyed stare and happily flushed cheeks greeting Arashi. He only pokes his head out, still wary of grabbing Arashi openly, but that doesn’t stop him from nearly vibrating in place. “ _Kara_ ,” he breathes, then hesitates, slinking back a bit from the door, the rustling, crinkly sound of unfamiliar fabric following him. “Um—ah—you can come in, but don’t be weirded out, okay? I was helpin’ Master fit some of his dresses earlier and it was so cute I didn’t wanna take it off, so, uh…”

 

“Sure,” Arashi says easily, then blinks, startled, looking down at Mika and his...dress?

 

He steps inside, shutting the door behind himself, looking Mika up and down. “Oh,” he breathes, eyes alight. “You’re...so pretty, gods, what--why are you...?”

 

Mika preens, smoothing down the heavy red silk and ruffles that make the dress look fit for a princess. “I’m the only one here real close to the sizes Master likes to make, so! I help him sometimes. Isn’t it pretty? He’s soo good, I wish I could sew like Master does but I always mess up and stab myself and stuff, heh.” He stretches up onto his tiptoes, peering up at Arashi. “You got taller since I last saw you. Nn, now y’ _really_ look like a prince.”

 

Arashi raises his hand to his newly-short hair, grimacing. “I let some little girl in the Capital play with my hair while I was delivering a letter for her father, and she managed to take out a big chunk. I had it evened out, but...” He shrugs, then looks back at the dress, feeling an odd thudding in his chest. “Even if I grow it out again, I’ll never be as pretty as you, you look like a pretty princess. Prettier than any of the ladies at court and twice as unique!”

 

Mika lifts a hand, unable to stop himself from touching Arashi’s hair. “ _Kara_ ’s so pretty, though, even with short hair…your hair’s so _gold_ ,” he says, mystified. “‘Cause you’re out in th’ sun all the time, right? Ah, I bet you’d get all tan in the south, you’d be…” _Really sexy_ , he wants to say, but the words stick to his tongue, and he fumbles for a moment. “Um, will you help me out of this?” he manages instead, turning around and lifting his own hair out of the way. “You gotta unlace it in the back. I don’t want Master to yell at me, I’ve already worn it too long.”

 

Arashi reaches up, but hesitates, an idea occurring to him. “Have you worn this out anywhere yet?”

 

“Eh?” Mika blinks, turning his head back to blink up at him. “No, no way. If I wore somethin’ like this out and about in the Academy, I’d get in soo much trouble.”

 

“Maybe not. If no one recognized you...” Arashi nibbles his bottom lip. “If I put one on too, and no one saw who we were? We could go on a real date, you know?”

 

“R…really?” Mika spins back around, his eyes wide. It’s a stupid idea, a _bad_ idea, but it’s an idea he _desperately_ wants to see happen. “Ahh, you’d be so pretty! Master made a blue one the other day—nnn, and he has hair extensions and stuff for his dolls, I bet I could borrow them and he wouldn’t mind, then you could have long hair again~…”

 

“Really? Ah, I’ve had so many compliments on the short hair, I was starting to think that the long hair wasn’t as nice as what I thought,” Arashi frets, reaching down and taking Mika’s hands in his. “I’m really scared that I’ll look ugly, though, so I hope you have a good mirror, I brought my cosmetics...”

 

“You look good with long _and_ short hair, but if you’re gonna dress like a girl, it’s gotta be long,” Mika says, squeezing Arashi’s hands tightly. “You’ll be _so_ pretty—hold on, hold on, I’ll get the dress!”

 

He releases Arashi to scurry as quickly as his own dress will allow over to the deep closet within the room, stuffed full of Shu’s various projects. After rummaging for a bit, he pulls out a sapphire blue gown, dripping in heavy, embroidered beading, lace, and long, fluttering sleeves. “It’s too big on me, so I bet it’ll fit you perfectly. C’mon, strip, strip, I’ll help you into it, Master’s got a floor length mirror over there so y’can see how you look.”

 

Arashi peels off his clothes, more grateful than ever that he’d cleaned thoroughly before leaving the Capital and deliberately gone slowly to avoid sweating too much. “Don’t be disappointed if I look bad,” he warns, laughing at himself as he steps into the gorgeous thing. “I’ve always wanted to be able to wear something like this, super cute and gorgeous, but I know where my appeal lies, you know?”

 

“Master makes lots of dresses for men,” Mika dismissively says, pulling the dress up and helping Arashi’s arms into the sleeves. “And you’re _real_ pretty, _kara_ , so you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

 

So help him, he moves a bit more slowly than he normally would to appreciate Arashi’s bare back for as long as he can, and it takes effort not to run a hand down his spine. He licks his lips, trying to shove the distraction away, and his fingers fumble with the lacings on the back of the corset. “Also,” he casually says, “you’ve got a great ass.”

 

Arashi flushes bright pink, and buries his face in his hands. “M-Mika, you’re making me all flustered! Why does your master make dresses for men, anyway? Isn’t that a pretty unusual thing to do?”

 

“Nah. He likes men and he likes it when men look pretty. What’s the problem with that? Here, breathe in—“ A swift yank on the laces, and Mika expertly draws them up tight, and finishes tying them off. “His lover’s the ooonly one that he didn’t put in dresses, but he’s real sexy, so I get that. Ahh, it fits you so well, _kara_ , look, look!”

 

Arashi has heard about this mythical lover of Mika’s master before, and can only think that the guy must be awfully tolerant of nonsense, which is all he’s ever seen from Mika’s crazy master. The laces steal his breath, and he grabs the back of a chair, adjusting as he breathes shallowly. “Ah...if you’re sure, I--”

 

He turns, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His brow furrows, and he looks down at himself, smoothing his hands (they suddenly feel too big, too rough, too clumsy) down the front of the skirts. “I definitely don’t look like myself,” he says softly. If he were smaller, more shapely, if his cheekbones were higher, eyes larger, chin more rounded, waist smaller, chest larger, hips more curved...

 

“Y’look perfect,” Mika cheerfully says, circling around to help adjust the dress a bit more, helping it lie correctly. “So pretty, like a princess now. Ah, where’s your makeup, I’ll help. I’m not as good as Master is, but…”

 

Arashi pulls out his bag of pots and brushes, handing them over. “You’ve done this before, right? On someone else?”

 

“Yeah. And on myself, when I was younger.”

 

Mika sits Arashi down and drags up a chair of his own, plopping down into it before he leans in close, gently taking Arashi’s chin between his fingers. “If we dressed up as girls all the time, maybe I really could run away,” he wistfully says. “I hate it here.”

 

“I’m really close to having an army,” Arashi assures him. “It’s gonna happen. I’m just making sure I have enough command that everyone _listens_ to me when I do. Then you can be with me all the time, right?”

 

“Mm. You gotta put in an application to snatch me up sooner rather than later, though,” Mika softly says, lining Arashi’s eyes with a surprisingly steady hand. “They’ll probably let you have me, ‘cause I can’t do nothin’ but blow stuff up.”

 

“Really? I thought you could summon those--I mean, that’s what I heard,” Arashi covers up hastily, “that you can summon these big old monsters.”

 

Mika pauses, but then he nods slowly. “Yeah, but…I can’t control ‘em, so I’m not supposed to do that. No one at the Academy can do the stuff I can do, but that’s not really a good thing. That’s why they’ll sell me off real cheap, I think.”

 

“I hate hearing about you being sold,” Arashi says softly. “Like you’re a bushel of wheat. This isn’t the Sandlands, people aren’t supposed to be for sale.”

 

“I don’t mind it, if it means you’re the one I get sold off to,” Mika says with a little shrug, finishing off Arashi’s eyes with a last flick of the brush. “I mean…I dunno, I think it’s kinda romantic.” _Too much, too much!_ His cheeks flush, and his fingers shake a little, making him fumble with the makeup brushes. “Sorry, that’s prolly weird…”

 

Arashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Then, very, very quietly, he asks, “If I bought you...could I keep you safe?”

 

Mika hesitates, nibbling at his lower lip. “If you bought my wizard’s contract…yeah. I’d have to do everything you said, go everywhere with you. I’d be yours until you got sick of me, heh.”

 

“And what about...the rules?” Arashi licks his lips, looking up into Mika’s glittering eyes. “About touching?”

 

“I…I think they still apply? Which seems dumb, if y’ask me, ‘cause if you’re gonna buy someone, at least be able to do whatever y’want to them,” Mika grumbles, nervously reaching over to fiddle with some of the ruffles on Arashi’s dress. It’s unfortunate that he can still feel lean muscle even through layers of silk, because that just makes him want to touch more, and he exhales a breath through his nose. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

 

Arashi’s breath stutters, then stops in his chest. His hands move almost on his own, coming to rest on Mika’s (too-narrow) hips. “I have a lot of ideas,” he admits, eyes dark with the hunger he tries to keep inside. “Maybe we could...find somewhere there aren’t any Watchers. If you’re mine. I’ll--I’ll take you to the top of the Sharps with you on my back if I have to, it’d be worth it.”

 

This just isn’t fair. People shouldn’t be forced to resist stuff like this— _especially_ people like him, who are pretty damn sure being naked is the best way to be, and _finally_ have attractive, nice-smelling people to touch (and that want to touch him). The noise that escapes Mika’s throat is a whine. “I’m gonna die if you stop touchin’ me,” he bemoans, dragging his hands back through Arashi’s hair. “I want you _so_ bad, you gotta…” _Shu got caught, they didn’t kill him, they just punished him, I can get punished, I get punished anyway, at least it would be for something like this…_

 

Arashi’s eyes flick to the doors, but they’re shut tightly. “Maybe,” he whispers, stepping slightly closer, until they’re a hairsbreadth from touching, “if we’re really quiet, no one will hear.”

 

“Kiss me.” Mika’s voice is low, but demanding. “Jus’—please? _Kara_ , I’ll do anythin’, I just…”

 

Arashi squeezes Mika’s hips. “You don’t have to do anything at all,” he whispers, and closes his eyes, taking Mika’s lips for his own.

 

It feels so much better than any kiss he’s ever had, emotions crashing over him. Mika’s lips are soft and supple, and his skin is trembling, making Arashi draw him in closer as if he can share his warmth, his stability, the love that burns in him and has for months.

 

As far as Mika’s concerned, it’s the first _real_ kiss he’s ever had—and it makes him cling to Arashi’s shoulders, the scrape of silk on silk loud in his ears as he presses close, heart pounding. His breath hiccups and he surges up onto his toes, kissing Arashi back eagerly, _greedily_ , wanting more by the second.

 

Then the lock in the door turns, and Mika bolts backwards, tripping over his own skirts in his hurry to separate them.

 

“Excellency,” comes the chiding, exasperated voice that follows as the door cracks open, revealing a tousled, barely pin-backed head of red hair, and the starched, pressed white robes of the Academy. The door clicks shut, and Mao, the current Keeper on duty, takes in the scene—Mika, wide-eyed and trembling, and Arashi, flushed and on edge. It’s Shu’s room, so the dresses are sort of par for the course, and he doesn’t even bat an eye at _that._ “After seeing how His Excellency Shu was punished, you should know better,” he says, his gaze swiveling directly to Arashi. “And _you_ _—_ you have a responsibility to not indulge him, no matter his lack of self-control.” 

 

“Please don’t hurt ‘im,” Mika frantically interrupts, lurching forward to grab at Mao’s arm. “Please, please—I promise, we won’t do it again, I…it was my fault, I made him!”

 

“Sit down,” Mao sighs, patting Mika’s hand, but brushing him off all the same as he remains fixated on Arashi. “You—give me your name and title.”

 

Arashi shifts, putting himself between Mika and the intruder, heart in his throat. This could easily get him stripped of said title, but at the moment, that doesn’t bother him nearly as much of the idea of Mika being ‘punished.’ “Lord Arashi,” he says, summoning all the confidence he can muster. “I’m developing my estate now.”

 

He puts on a smile, going for charming, disarming. “Besides, nothing happened. We’re just talking as friends. I’m looking for wizards to work in my war camp.”

 

Mika trembles, Mao sighs. “Get changed,” he orders Arashi. “And meet me in the hallway. Excellency, please get changed as well, but I’d like for you to stay in here.”

 

“…Please—“

 

“This isn’t up for negotiation.”

 

Mika’s fingers shake, twisting up into the long lace of his sleeves, and Mao gives Arashi one last, curt nod before stepping back out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. “I’m sorry,” Mika whispers, the shaking in his hands traveling to his voice. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry, this is my fault, I’m sorry.”

 

Arashi’s eyes widen, then sharpen, and he takes Mika protectively in his arms. There’s a sick, tense feeling in his chest, and his mouth is dry. “Don’t worry,” he says, faking cheer. “Help me with these laces, hmm? I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

Mika sits for a moment, unable to even move courtesy of the anxiety that makes every single part of him feel numb. _It’s not fair!_ every part of his mind screams, but that doesn’t matter, because _nothing_ about the Academy is fair—it never has been, as long as he’s been here. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again. “He’s…I dunno what he’s gonna do, but you can’t lie to him, you _can’t_ , he already knows, that’s why he’s here…”

 

Mika doesn’t seem to be inclined to move, so Arashi yanks at the laces himself, finally shucking the restrictive thing, letting it drape over the back of a chair. He yanks on his breeches, shirt, vest, and coat, and buckles on his sword belt, faking more confidence than he feels when his stomach lurches. “I’ve got my sword,” he assures Mika. “And that guy doesn’t look so tough. Don’t worry so much, yeah?”

 

“He’s Enhanced.” Mika swallows hard, trembling where he sits. “And one of the hands of the Emperor. You…you gotta do what he says. Please don’t try to fight him, please.”

 

“Not unless I don’t have a choice,” Arashi says, squeezing Mika’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, seriously. I always pull off the impossible.”

 

He wants to give Mika’s cheek a kiss, but thinks better of it, and Mika would probably be able to feel him trembling, anyway. He gives him a little nod instead, hoping it looks more firm than it feels, and heads into the hallway. His pulse settles, the way it does before battle, and his head clears. He looks around, finding that redhead, and strides over, trying to put confidence in his step. “Right, what now?” he asks briskly.

 

“You be grateful that I’m the one here, and not someone else.”

 

Mao’s lips purse, frustration furrowing his brow as he stares at Arashi, arms crossed over his chest. “There isn’t another Keeper here that would let this slide,” he lowly says. “And the only reason _I’m_ allowing it is because of Mika’s status within the Academy. Did he explain any part of our rules to you? Obviously not, if you’re so willing to touch him without hesitation.”

 

Arashi’s brow furrows. “He said it wasn’t allowed,” he admits, though his instincts tell him to lie. But the guy is already talking about letting this slide, so how much trouble could he _really_ be in? “And that there were people who watched to make sure, but that’s about it. We were really quiet--honestly, it was only a _kiss_ , nothing even happened.”

 

“That _child_ in there is one of the most dangerous wizards this world has ever seen.” Mao’s voice is low as he steps closer. “Dangerous enough that he’s not allowed to be granted a Nightcloak, courtesy of the privileges it brings. Kissing him leads to sex, leads to his emotional investment in you—and keeping him level, and calm, and not destroying this place from the ground up is what we are trying to accomplish. Do you _want_ to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people if you upset him, Lord Arashi?”

 

Arashi stares at Mao, confused. “Wait, what? _You’re_ the one upsetting him, he was happy when I was in there.”

 

“No, he’s upset because he knows he broke the rules. And because, typically, the lovers of wizards that break said rules are executed.”

 

Arashi steps back, eyes wide. “E-executed? Seriously? For having _sex_?”

 

“It’s the Emperor’s belief that sexual relationships have absolutely no benefit to the wizards in his care,” Mao says, sounding rather like he’s reciting from a rulebook. “Extensive studies _have_ show that allowing those sorts of relations offer no additional value to his subjects and only bring about emotional instability that brings in additional expense to the Academy through destruction or death. This obviously impedes their further education. Consider this your one warning, because you’re young and were obviously not fully informed about the consequences. If you let it happen again, I _will_ be reporting you directly to my superior.”

 

Arashi’s face darkens, and he only barely refrains from grabbing the guy by the collar. “Are you seriously telling me that you’ll report him for a _kiss?_ That he’s never allowed to kiss anyone ever again? Come on, you’ve got to have a sliding scale, here. Like a tap on the wrist for a kiss, I’ll pay a fine.”

 

“I’m not reporting him, not this time,” Mao flatly reminds him. “If you care about him, then you’ll be kind and not put him in a situation where he tries to pursue a relationship with you. The last person that tried such a thing was publicly executed, in front of the wizard they were involved with. Do you want him to see that?”

 

Arashi can’t help but think of Mika’s mismatched eyes, full of tears. “No,” he grumbles, setting his arms to his sides, forcing himself not to draw his sword. “How did you hear, anyway? We were really quiet.”

 

“Gods, he really told you nothing, didn’t he…” Mao heaves a sigh, shaking his head. “Every single wizard here is monitored in shifts, with chains of magic connecting their current Keeper to them. I can hear every single thing that every single wizard is doing right now because of that. You two were _very_ loud in comparison to everyone else here.”

 

Arashi’s mouth goes dry. He purses his lips, then nods once, feeling incredibly stupid. “If there is anything to happen from this, please let it fall on my head, not his. I should have asked more questions, I’m very new in this area, you see. He’s the first wizard I ever met, he probably didn’t know how ignorant I am.”

 

“I’ve been monitoring the two of you for some time. That’s why I’m being so lenient now.” Mao reaches out, placing a hand atop Arashi’s shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen this time, but consider it as stern a warning as you’ll ever hear. He’s a _very_ delicate creature. His master recently ran into similar trouble; please don’t make him suffer through the same.”

 

“Is that the one who was executed?” Arashi asks, voice hushed. “How, um, far is it, before it sets something off? Can I touch his hair or something? Or is it...” _Doomed before we even begin?_

 

“Yes, that’s the one who was executed—and Mika’s master was severely punished as well, for not providing details about his lover’s whereabouts,” Mao quietly says, shaking his head. “Nothing sexual. Don’t kiss him. I wouldn’t recommend hugging him, but if you must, that’s acceptable with proper restraint. My recommendation to anyone is to keep their distance, but you seem like a very touchy person anyway, so I can tell you’ll have trouble with that.”

 

Arashi drags a hand down his face, then nods. “All right. All right. Hey, out of curiosity, how many of you are there? The Watchers?”

 

“Your stableboy could be a Watcher, which I hope answers your question.”

 

Arashi grunts, and nods again. “Fine. Thanks for the warning, I guess. Can I just...go back in there and say goodbye?”

 

Mao’s eyebrows raise. “If you keep your hands to yourself, yes.”

 

Arashi raises his hands, trying not to look sarcastic. “Fine, fine.” He turns, striding back to the room and opening the door, bringing that false cheer back to his face. “Mika? See, I told you I’d be fine.”

 

Mika, now curled up on his bed, wrapped up in nothing but his cloak, jerks upright, sniffling and wiping at his red, watery eyes. “Y..you…” He hiccups, hardly believing it. “They aren’t gonna do anythin’ t’you?”

 

“Told you,” Arashi says, beaming from ear to ear, even as his heart twists. He wants to run to Mika, take him in his arms, and comfort him until he stops shaking, but...

 

He swings the chair around, sitting backwards on it. “Just a warning, because I’m so cute. And he was nice enough to explain some stuff for me, heh. All good, like I promised.”

 

Mika sniffs, staring back at him, hardly believing it. It’s hard to, after he’d seen what had happened with Shu, with _Rei_ —how Rei had to flee, how Shu had been tortured for weeks, months, for no good reason at all…

 

His fingers twist up into his cloak, and he huddles back into it. “It…it was stupid of me, to even talk about that kind of stuff,” he whispers, unable to meet Arashi’s eyes. “I’m really sorry. I won’t do that kinda thing again. If somethin’ happened t’you…I…I’d die, I’d jus’ die.”

 

“It’s fine.” Arashi keeps the friendly smile on his face, scooting the chair closer. “I’m only not touching you to keep you safe, all right? Not because I don’t want to. So, hey, we got a free kiss, isn’t that nice?”

 

He swallows down the lump in his throat, telling him that something is ending. “And we’ll still dress up and go on dates, yeah? Just...with a different ending than I thought, heh.”

 

“I wish I wasn’t a wizard.” It’s not something that Mika voices often—or ever, really—but this is Arashi. He has to. The words won’t stop. “I wish…I wish I was still in th’ Sandlands, still in a brothel, then you could buy me for real and I c-could be yours.”

 

“If we’re wishing,” Arashi says wistfully, “I wish I were a lady, and you my lord. Or vice versa.”

 

“Both are good.” Mika sniffles again, forcing himself to lift his head and actually look at Arashi. “You’re…you’re still gonna try to get me as your wizard, right?”

 

“Of course.” Arashi’s heart aches at that look on Mika’s face. “Even if I can never touch you again, you’ll always be my precious friend.”

 

“You can still pet my head. My master does that, we don’t get in trouble.”

 

Arashi shifts closer, and runs a hand through Mika’s wild hair as far as his fingers can get, tousling it gently. “See? As long as I can do that, it’s fine, isn’t it?”

 

Mika sniffs, but he nods, butting his head up against Arashi’s hand, too afraid to reach out and touch him himself now. “Y-yeah. Yeah, that’s…that’s fine.” Tears prick into his eyes again, and he squeezes them shut, trying to stop himself from crying more. “Sorry,” he huffs again. “Sorry, I jus’…I thought about you leavin’. I miss y’so much when you aren’t here, it hurts…”

 

“Well, I’m not going to stop coming around,” Arashi assures him. “Just gives me more incentive to get my army, so at least we can _talk_ and stuff. Right? Hey, just so you know, that’s what I like most about you. Not the kissing and whatever, I can live without that.”

 

Mika forces himself to nod, even though he doesn’t completely agree. “I’d kiss you all day if I could,” he mumbles. “Hurry up and get your army. I’m gonna be real upset if you take too long, okay?”

 

“Got it.” Arashi hesitates, then presses a kiss to his hand, and presses it gently to Mika’s cheek. “Then I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll see you soon, all right?”

 

Mika nods again. He finally reaches up, grabbing for Arashi’s wrist to hold his hand close for a moment, butting his head against that touch before he releases him with a hot exhale of breath. “Okay,” he softly says. “Be safe, _kara_.”


	8. Chapter 8

More or less living on the battlefield is a lifestyle that Mika doesn’t mind, but days like this set his nerves entirely on edge.

 

He’s watched quietly as the steady, sturdy hourglass that only he can see upon Arashi’s chest has slowed before, but this is different. This is a radical shift, less about how that sand trickles, more about how there’s so much less of it, suddenly, as Arashi prepares to ride out into battle.

 

Up until now, if a wizard has been needed, it’s Shu that goes. It’s not his preference, not something either of them _want_ , but Shu won’t hear his own offers to go, and Arashi has flat-out refused him. Now, though—this is terrifying, this shakes him, and Mika grabs at the hem of Shu’s sleeve, tugging on it frantically. “Let me go today,” he whispers, slipping into sand tongue so only Shu can understand him. “Please? I’ve got to, he won’t let me if I ask him, but if I just show up, he can’t say no…”

 

“Absolutely not,” Shu says flatly. He speaks his own tongue, but does so very quietly, so as not to attract attention, and because his own Sandtongue is embarrassing, at best. “You’re too irregular in battle conditions. You’re as likely to hurt yourself as your enemies. Don’t worry, I’ll protect him.”

 

It isn’t as if he approves of Mika’s choice of partners, especially since he’s living proof that choosing _any_ partner is a stupid, irresponsible choice, but at least Mika has chosen one that doesn’t expect anything the boy isn’t able to provide.

 

“I _have_ to go!” Trying not to become shrill over this is almost impossible, and hot, panicked tears prick into Mika’s eyes. “The fact I’m unpredictable is the _point_ —if I don’t go, he might die, I can see it!”

 

Shu pauses, then puts an arm around Mika’s shoulders, squeezing him once before releasing him quickly. “Law says only one of us on the field,” he warns. “I can’t come with you. But I _suppose_ if you don’t want to be smart and let me take care of this, I won’t stop you.”

 

Mika’s expression immediately dissolves into one of relief, and he sniffs, nodding quickly and grabbing Shu once more for a tight hug. “T-thank you,” he whispers. “I can do it, I swear.” _I have to._

 

His heart jumps into his throat when he leaves their shared tent, however, and he huddles down into his cloak. He already receives a handful of strange looks when he’s the one that climbs up onto Shu’s horse, but he ignores them, even when his hands tremble as he grabs tight to the reins. Riding out to catch up to Arashi makes this that much more real, and setting eyes on that hourglass again—still dripping away sand far too fast—makes him sick. _Just me coming wasn’t enough to change it, damn it._ “Hi,” Mika nervously greets, forcing a smile. “You get me today.”

 

Arashi brightens, and leans close, ruffling Mika’s hair. It hasn’t gotten them in trouble yet, so he’ll keep doing it as long as he can. “Yay, I’ve got a Mika at my side! Just stick close to me, all right? And--Shu taught you how to find a Berserker, right?”

 

“Mm.” Mika tries not to shake, or grab at Arashi’s hand and hold onto it desperately. “Yeah, he taught me. Um, it should be even easier for me, actually, ‘cause I see things in different ways…” He hesitates, then pushes his hair out of the way of his blue eye, no matter how much it hurts to look at Arashi directly right now. “Can I ask you t’do somethin’ for me, though?”

 

“As long as it keeps you safe,” Arashi says cheerfully, nodding to his sergeant, moving the company out through the narrow, twisting roads. “Ahhh, I love riding with you, it reminds me of the first time we met for real...”

 

“If there’s a Berserker, don’t run at it headlong like y’always talk about doin’. Let someone else take it out.”

 

Mika glances down at his hands, twisting the reins up into his hands. “It’s jus’ a feeling I have.”

 

Arashi’s smile is only the tiniest bit patronizing. “But I’m the only one who’s good at taking them out like that,” he explains, giving Mika’s plodding horse a slap on the ass. “I promise I’ll let the archers do their job first, but I’m not going to cost my men’s lives.”

 

Mika’s lips purse. “I’ll kill it myself then, if the archers don’t take it out.”

 

Arashi’s carefully plucked eyebrows shoot up. “Can you do that? Ahh, that would be wonderful! I’ll let you try, for sure.”

 

 _I’m way better at killing shit than Shu is, and way more unfazed by it,_ Mika wants to say, but it’s probably not good for Arashi to know. “Yeah. I’ll try.” He spares a glance at Arashi’s chest, and if he’s not going crazy, he’s _pretty sure_ the hourglass slows down a tick. That sends a flutter of relief down his spine. “Maybe there will be a snog, too.”

 

“My men have standing orders to stop you from petting snogs, Mika.”

 

Mika immediately pouts. “But they’re so cute! And they only bite a little, I bet it would be fine to pet one, just _once._ ”

 

Arashi rolls his eyes, nudging his new mare forward. “I’m gonna ask you to apologize to Lightfall’s ghost,” he says, mouth crooked. “Think about your horse, if not yourself. Those things are so nasty. Cute from afar, maybe, but if you get close, I’m never letting you on a battlefield again.”

 

“Nnnn, fine, fine, I’ll jus’ make another stuffed one,” Mika grumbles, kicking his own horse forward to keep up. “Y’should kill a snog and let me pet it that way sometime. I gotta examine it for accuracy.”

 

“You _know_ that all the snog corpses are either sent back to the Academy for study or hurled off the cliffs,” Arashi says with a sigh. They crest the hill, and Arashi firms his expression.

 

This is going to be a bad one.

 

He can feel it in his bones at the first sight at the way the Inglings surge forward, bending and sometimes buckling Arashi’s ranks. Arashi grabs his helmet and unsheathes his sword, raising it into the sky, jerking his head forward towards Mika. “If you want to stay by my side, keep up,” he warns, eyes glittering. “And find that berserker before it changes, or they’re all going to die.”

 

Mika’s heart thuds, and he spares a brief glance towards Arashi’s chest again. The hourglass might be slowed, but it’s still not normal, and he chews at his lower lip, steeling himself with a quick breath. “Got it,” he murmurs, raking his bangs out of his face again when a gust of wind tries to whip them forward over his eyes again. “I’ll be fast.”

 

The ranks of Inglings are far thicker than even some of Arashi’s stories would belie. It hurts his eyes to scan the masses of them, but Mika forces himself to look through them, spurring his horse forward to stay at Arashi’s side. Every single Ingling starts to blend together, but then—

 

_There._

 

He flinches, blinking hard when his vision spins. Shu had warned him; it’s one of the main reasons why he never goes to the battlefield, overprotectiveness aside. This creature is _strange_ , from the simmering energy inside of it, to the horrific way that its own hourglass—one that only he can see, as always—seems relentlessly slow and strong. “Ow,” he manages, shielding his eyes briefly. “There’s one—ah—two, they’re travelin’ together, left flank. I can mark them, jus’, ah, let me know when.”

 

“Archers!” Arashi bellows, riding up to the first line of archers. “Ready for berserkers!”

 

He starts tingling, skin tight, muscles engaged. Every part of his body wants to charge in, to fight, to let his new mare Ladyfoot prove her mettle, to slash and hack until the berserker is on the ground. He can do it. He _knows_. He can break the Ingling charge, this is a good day for a test of his quality. “Now, Mika!”

 

_Maybe they’ll miss. Maybe Mika won’t be able to bring one down, and they’ll need me._

 

He probably shouldn’t be hoping for that.

 

Marking them is easy. Pinpoint tracking magic, that’s all it takes, a glowing mote that slaps painlessly into the side of each berserker—anything else alerts them too much to being targeted, Shu’s warned him about that, too. Some horses in the mixture of the field are unused to magic—which is so _frustrating_ when they bolt into the lines of archers, and just as many arrows hit their mark as don’t, felling only one of the berserkers-to-be.

 

The other, now, is too aware.

 

The hourglass on Arashi’s chest doesn’t flip—it’s faster again, and Mika’s heart leaps into his throat, bringing him to spur his horse forward. “I’m going, call everyone back,” he insistently says, pulling up along Arashi for only a second. “Trust me, I—it’s a feeling I have, this one’s different!” It’s not like he can tell Arashi _you’re going to die if you go._

 

“You’ve got ten seconds,” Arashi calls, sword unsheathed, hand strong and sure on the hilt. “People start dying in fifteen!”

 

Ladyfoot dances in place, the cursed creature, and Arashi grits his teeth, trying to control her with his legs. Just then, he feels the slightest bit of give in his saddle, as if the girth is stretching, then--

 

The girth snaps, saddle suddenly pitching to the side. Arashi leaps free of Ladyfoot as the saddle hits the ground, and he rolls, feeling the impact all along his side. Through slitted eyes, he sees the berserker roar, then swell to many times his original size, feet shaking the ground as Arashi struggles to his feet. “Take him down!” he shouts, suddenly feeling far too short, far too battered, a trickle of blood dripping into his left eye.

 

Mika doesn’t think, he just moves.

 

Shu has told him too many terrifying stories of the battlefield, when he returns, shaking, muddy and miserable. In a way, Mika, no matter how scary it all sounds, wishes he had been able to be here all along—isn’t it far better if _he’s_ the one risking his life for Arashi? It’s far more romantic, isn’t it, and if he dies, somehow, then— _at least it’s for something I want for a change._

 

“Move!” The snarl from a normally quiet, retreating wizard spooks soldiers when combined with thundering hooves, and soon to follow, sparking magic. The barrier that swiftly erupts at his command is enough to separate berserker and Mika from army, but most importantly, berserker from Arashi, with only a pair of soldiers trapped within it as well.

 

There’s nothing to be done about that. One of them is dead already, his neck broken with the swipe of the berserker’s enormous hand as Mika yanks his horse to a stop, and the second—well, this is probably a kinder death than by a berserker’s hand, and if the casualty is only two, that’s better than the dozens Arashi has quietly told him about before.

 

He draws a breath in, and his vision goes monochrome. The barrier sparks, almost as if it’s off-shooting little flutters of flame underneath the sudden strain of the power it has to contain, and Mika’s horse collapses out from underneath him, breathing its last breath. The other soldier drops as well, touched by a creature grey and wisping, its long, bony fingers barely ghosting his cheek, and the berserker roars, a terrible, earth-shaking sound before it crumples, the force of its weight hitting the ground nearly toppling Mika back onto his dead horse. _Dead, it’s dead, they’re all dead, but it’s fine, Arashi can’t be._

 

The dust takes a horribly long, agonizing time to settle. Arashi looks this way and that, frantically scanning the horizon for anyone he recognizes. _Not Mika, not Mika, not Mika, don’t let me find him,_ his voice repeats over and over, grabbing each corpse he finds, turning it over to see the face. Every body he finds isn’t Mika, something that makes his heart pound each time, until the dust finally settles, and he looks around, tearing off his helm. “Mika?” he yells, voice hoarse with dust and panic, seeing the berserker shrinking into the figure of a regular-sized Ingling yet again.

 

The barrier sizzles, sparks again before finally flickering out of existence, and the last wisping, fluttering specter brushes a hand through his hair before disappearing. Mika slowly hauls himself to his feet, rocking back onto his heels, and he turns, his eyes finally refocusing, the world sliding back to color again. “ _Kara_ ,” he calls back, trying not to sway where he stands. “I’m here!” _Come closer, let me make sure you’re fine._

 

At that voice, Arashi turns, then runs.

 

He’d been four years old when he first understood that running for him isn’t like running for other people. When he runs, the world slips away, the horizon sliding up to him almost as fast as it does when he rides his horse. He leaps over a corpse, landing at Mika’s side in a heartbeat. He falls to his knees, running his hands over Mika’s legs, his arms, his hips, his waist, tears streaming down his dusty, bloody face. “Thank the gods,” he whispers. “You’re safe, thank all the gods.”

 

The hourglass is there, unbroken, unscathed, flipped over and dripping that sand slowly, _normally_. Mika crumples then, throwing his arms around Arashi’s neck, clinging to him, burying his face right into his shoulder. “Told you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” he breathes. “You’re mine no matter what, okay?”

 

Arashi nods, feeling shattered, but held together, like a glass pane that’s been cracked, but not pushed. “I thought I lost you,” he whispers, and squeezes harder than he probably should. “Now stay close behind me, all right? I’ve got to lead my men. You did brilliantly, I’m so proud of you, I--”

 

_I’m never not going to be in love with you._

 

The thought is crystal-clear and cold in Arashi’s mind, and all he can do is smile sadly. It had been a nice thought, that he could someday move on, that he could find someone else, give his heart away, even if he could never marry that other man.

 

Shaking his head at himself, he stands, raising his sword into the air. “Re-form the line!” he bellows, running forward. “Squad leaders, form up! Spearmen, to the front! Archers, fall back, infantry, support the spearmen!”

 

Mika sways, barely able to even see for a moment before he stumbles after Arashi, staying as close as he can when Arashi is so fast. _But it’s fine, it’s fine, Arashi is safe, I can keep him safe, I can do this._

 

Time on the battlefield passes slowly, and adrenaline keeps Mika from collapsing until the very, _very_ end. His legs feel as if they’re about to melt out from underneath him, and he finally has to give up, grabbing at Arashi’s back, trembling from overstimulation, from the overuse of magic. “ _Kara_ ,” he breathes, “you gotta carry me back, be my prince already.” 

 

Arashi’s blood still sings from the combat, but he ducks his head, ensuring that the battle is truly won as he sweeps Mika off his feet into a princess-style carry. “Your prince is here,” he assures his lovely wizard, clutching him close to his chest. “You did so well. I’m pouring very expensive wine tonight, hmm?”

 

Mika flops his arms right around Arashi’s neck, stuffing his face back into it. “Pour me wine and pet my hair,” he sighs, wiping at some of the blood on Arashi’s face with the edge of his sleeve. “And lemme patch you up and everything, that’s what your lover would do.”

 

Arashi nods, head sagging a little as he makes his way back to camp. “Need to find a new horse,” he grunts. “And I guess a new saddle, that one was obviously no good. I’ll send someone to do that, though, I don’t think anyone would begrudge me some time with you. Was that your ghosts? I could hardly see...”

 

“Mmn, yeah. I tried to trap ‘em as much as possible, but I can’t cut ‘em off completely…” Mika’s eyes lid, his head flopping to rest against Arashi’s shoulder. “I don’t care, though. As long as you’re safe, nothin’ matters.”

 

“My men’s lives matter,” Arashi reminds Mika with a little squeeze. Mika is a good person, but sometimes he has to be reminded of it. “And you saved a lot of them today. Gods, I thought we’d lost, today. And two berserkers on top of that...that could have been a massacre.”

 

“Nope,” Mika proudly says, kicking his feet slowly. “No massacres. Nnh, I told you, I’m good at killin’ stuff, I jus’ gotta be monitored. And I get tired, like right now, I can’t feel my toes _or_ fingers.”

 

“Eh? Is that normal?” Arashi asks, nervous as he picks their way through the field, until they get past all of the corpses. His arms, fortunately, don’t feel tired at all, even after the stress of battle. “I didn’t even get to kill anyone this time, but there are still so many corpses. Guess I’m obsolete when you’re around, huh?”

 

“I haven’t used this much magic in a loooong time…I _think_ it’s normal. I feel normal, just kinda…wiggly.” Mika sighs, letting his head fall back. “If we were lovers,” he wistfully says, “we could like, have victory sex. That’d be fun.”

 

“Don’t say that when I’m worked up after battle,” Arashi groans, pace quickening. “I’m already hard as hell, you’re not helping.”

 

“Sorry,” Mika says, not sounding apologetic in the least when he’s still riding the high of Arashi not being _dead._ “That’s sexy, though. You’re so strong, I bet y’could break me in half.”

 

“Eh? I’d never hurt you!”

 

“Noo, I mean in a sexy way! I want you to toss me on th’ ground and ravish me!”

 

“Stop iiiiit,” Arashi whines, picking up the pace again, outpacing the rest of his weary army. “You’re gonna make me misbehave and die. And I’ll die so happy. Sounds kinda sexy, dying for making love.”

 

Mika squirms a bit, tugging on the ends of Arashi’s hair that he can get his hands on. “We could hide in your tent for a little while,” he sweetly wheedles. “And I’ll patch you up, and y’can tell me allll about what you’d do to me if y’could. Ain’t nothin’ bad about that, you’re not touchin’ meee…”

 

“You know,” Arashi says, hushed and quiet, saying stupid things because he’s hot, he’s tired, and he’s feeling desperate, “it wouldn’t break the rules if I sort of...took care of myself, and you did the same. We could watch.”

 

The thought is a _very_ enticing one. Mika licks his lips, considering, and then quickly says, “Tie one of my hands to a tent stake or somethin, and I’m in. I ain’t got no self-control and I really wanna touch you.”

 

“Oh gods. Deal.”

 

Arashi gives up on walking, and just dashes towards his tent, tossing Mika down onto his pretty, one-of-a-kind coverlets. "You can take a look at my hurts if you like, but I doubt I’ll deed a real healing. It’s mostly just scratches and bruises under all the dirt and sweat.”

 

“Yeah, I gotta take a look at your hurts, that’s what I’m doin’,” Mika mutters, lurching up off the coverlet to grab at Arashi’s blood-stained shirt, all but yanking the laces open. If he keeps _saying_ it’s to look Arashi’s injuries over, anyone Listening can’t do anything, right? Right. “I know y’don’t like it,” he breathes, his eyes lidding, “but you’re so… _so_ sexy when you’re all sweaty and dirty like this.”

 

A shudder runs through Arashi, and he shucks his clothing, all of it, despite how rarely he enjoys being fully nude when he’s not bathing. “I hate thinking of myself as sweaty and dirty,” he allows, “but...mm, if you like it, who am I to say otherwise, hmm?”

 

Mika licks his lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch _everywhere_. It’s one thing to be claiming to examine Arashi’s injuries, another to immediately grab for his dick, and so Mika forces himself to drop his hands, ripping at the fastenings of his own robes instead. “You look so good when you’ve come right off the battlefield,” he murmurs, shrugging the layers of clothing off to reveal nothing but the mess of straps underneath, which he unravels with a deft hand. Being Shu’s apprentice _does_ make his life easier in a number of ways.

 

Naked, _finally_ , Mika collapses back onto the coverlet again with a grateful sigh, and stretches out with an arch of his back. “Tie me up or I’m gonna be bad,” he cheerfully says. “That’s how it is.”

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

Shu’s voice is shrill and anxious as he whips aside the tent flap, tying it back into place hurriedly. “Can I not leave you alone for even five minutes? Do you want to get him killed, do you want to get _both_ of you executed?”

 

“We weren’t doing anything,” Arashi growls, frustrated and grabbing at his cloak. “Mind your own business, Excellency.”

 

“We weren’t doin’ _nothin’_ ,” Mika insistently growls, twisting onto his side and snatching up his own cloak to huddle back up into it. “We were jus’ gonna talk about stuff, no touchin’, that’s not breakin’ the rules, you said so!”

 

“And you _know_ ,” Shu hisses, “that even taking those off is enough to get you sent to re-education if a Watcher sniffs you out, much less in the presence of a naked person! And _you_ ,” he continues, rounding on Arashi, “I thought you already had your warning. Are you going to throw away your life so easily? Do you _know_ what that would do to him? That’s _selfish_ , not to mention stupid!”

 

Arashi glares, sitting heavily on his chair. The mood is gone, and he stares at his feet, sullen. “I wouldn’t put him in danger,” he mutters, despite knowing how hot his blood had been, how close he’d been to doing exactly that.

 

“You’re the one that taught me how t’take ‘em off,” Mika moodily says, grabbing one of Arashi’s pillows and yanking it over his head. “I was gonna behave, _kara_ was gonna make _sure_ I behaved, this isn’t fair, I jus’ wanted him to _talk_ at me so I could get off for the first time in years!”

 

“Prove it.”

 

Shu grabs a wooden stool, then sits on it, arms folded. “If that’s all, you can do it, but I’m going to supervise.”

 

Mika pauses, lifting the pillow off of his head warily. His gaze flicks over to Arashi, hesitant but still eager. He can’t help it, not when the chance is right there in front of him. “Is…is that okay?” he asks. “If you’re not in the mood now, I get it, but…”

 

Arashi gives him a crooked grin. “Bear with me if I’m a little shy,” he says softly, “but I’ll do anything if it means I can look at you like this.”

 

He turns to look at Shu, and adds, “It would help if you didn’t glare quite so much, Excellency.”

 

“I’m not glaring. This is my face.”

 

Arashi laughs, and shrugs, letting the cloak slide off of him, running his hand down his chest, then his belly. “If you’re going to be here,” he murmurs, though his eyes are only on Mika, “you might as well enjoy yourself.”

 

“That’s definitely jus’ his face,” Mika says distractedly, mouth parting as he watches the path of Arashi’s hand. He squirms, tossing his own cloak aside again, and makes one grabbing motion towards Arashi. “Gimme your shirt,” he demands. “I’m gonna smell you one way or another.”

 

“There’s blood on it,” Arashi warns, but he tosses the shirt over anyway. The idea of Mika smelling him... “You smelling that is hot,” he breathes, eyes glinting as he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking it back to full hardness. His pulse thuds, and despite his occasional modesty, he finds he doesn’t care much at all if Shu is watching him as long as Mika is. “You have such pretty hands, I bet they’d feel so good around me...”

 

Mika stuffs his face down into Arashi’s shirt, inhaling deeply. The blood doesn’t bother him. It’s the smell of Arashi that matters, sweat and pheromones and the scent of battle that makes his toes curl. His cock aches between his legs, and he whimpers underneath his breath. “Y’jus’ want my hands on you?” he breathes, his eyes fluttering. “I’d get on my knees and put my mouth on you right now.”

 

A whimper escapes Arashi’s mouth, and he bites his lip, squeezing his cock, thumb tracing around the tip. “That sounds incredible,” he breathes, letting his thighs splay apart, shifting to better display himself in what he hopes is a sexy pose. “You’d look so good like that, I bet that would feel, so good, I’d love to be in your mouth...”

 

A soft gasp comes from Shu, who looks away suddenly, cheeks flushed pink. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Don’t mind me.”

 

 _See, you can’t help it either_ , Mika smugly thinks. “I bet you’d taste as good as you smell,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his chest, his fingers lingering to pinch and slowly twist a nipple. He jumps with the touch, his breath hiccuping. It’s easy to imagine that touch as Arashi’s—but his hands are larger, his fingers more calloused in the best of ways, and the more Mika’s mind focuses on that, the harder he gets. His lips part, his tongue wetting his lower lip as his eyes drag up the length of Arashi’s cock. “It’s big…nnn, but I can take it, I wanna taste you so bad…”

 

Hunger washes over Arashi in a sudden, fierce wave, and he grips himself tight, starting to stroke faster. “I can imagine it. I can see you on your knees in front of me, you know? I bet you’d look so pretty, with your mouth open, stretched around it...then I’d, god, I want to be inside you, I want to put my hands all over you.”

 

Mika groans, biting down into Arashi’s shirt when his hand abruptly drags down, grabbing his own cock when he can’t _help_ it. “You could jus’—ahh—t-toss me back on your bed, I want you in me so bad.” Every muscle in his body tenses, his legs trembling as his thumb drags up over the head of his cock. “I…I bet it would feel even bigger inside me,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering. “ _Kara…_ I want y’to fuck me, take care of me~…”

 

“I’d take such good care of you,” Arashi groans, stifling a louder sound into his hand. His actual experience doesn’t matter now--Mika’s face is flushed, his body trembling, and the look of that makes Arashi so much harder, aching and straining against his fingers. “I’d make you come over and over, I’d--you’d be so full, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t that feel good?”

 

Mika nods desperately, his chest heaving. “Y…you’d feel perfect,” he pants out, and he can’t help himself, not anymore, not when the idea of Arashi’s cock in him is quickly driving him mad. Mika drags a hand to his mouth, sucking on a pair of fingers and leaving them slick before he reaches back, barely able to even sink them inside of himself without trembling, twisting on the bed and panting into that shirt that smells like _nothing_ but Arashi as he aches from the inside out. “You…ah… _k_ - _kara_ , I w-want you to come inside me, I wanna feel you in me for _days_ , g-gods, please…”

 

The sight of Mika’s fingers disappearing between his legs makes Arashi curse, pitching forward as he comes over his hand with a soft cry. For once, he can’t even be annoyed at the stupid way his voice spikes low when he hits his climax, something that usually leaves him feeling embarrassed. All he can think about is _Mika, Mika, Mika_ , as hot liquid seeps out between his fingers, dripping to the floor of the tent.

 

Arashi’s voice, low and throaty and broken with arousal, goes straight to Mika’s cock. He shoves his face down into that shirt, working himself with his fingers sinking as deep inside of himself as they can, his back arched with every stroke. One, ragged, too-sharp inhale, and he’s lost, sobbing out a breath, spilling into Arashi’s coverlet, milking himself even as his hand shakes.

 

“ _Karaa…”_ Mika’s voice hiccups, and he shakily drags his other hand through the mess, dazedly bringing it to his own lips to lick it clean. “Y’should’ve come in somethin’ I could lick it up from,” he sighs. “That’s _probably_ not against the rules…”

 

“Gods,” Arashi says weakly, slumping back against the chair. “Mika...was that, was it good? Was it what you wanted? Is it...enough?”

 

 _Won’t be enough until you can actually do me,_ Mika wants to say, but he bites his tongue, stretching out with a long exhale. “Mmnn…yeah, but you gotta do that more often now or I’ll die. See, Master, told you I’d behave.”

 

“Y-yes. Well done, I suppose, though it’s the least you should be able to do.” Shu’s face is a bright, flaming pink, and he looks considerably flustered. “Captain, get out, I need to tend to my apprentice.”

 

Arashi nearly snaps that this is his tent, but the last time he’d snapped at Shu, he’d lost his tent to a gout of violet fire. So instead, he tugs on his clothes, then moves over and presses a kiss to Mika’s head. “I need to do a casualty report, anyway. Take good care of him, please.”

 

“I’ll be here when you come back,” Mika calls after him, watching Arashi leave with a fluttery little sigh before he rolls facedown, burying his face happily into Arashi’s shirt (which he’s probably never giving back). “He’s perfect, sooo perfect, I’m gonna diiie…”

 

Shu closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to will down the turmoil in his abdomen, the arousal that makes him choked up, every part of him tense. “This isn’t the worst thing you could be doing,” he says softly, “but you need to think carefully. If you keep going like this, he’ll never be able to leave you.”

 

“Isn’t that th’ point of havin’ a lover?” Mika murmurs, scooting over to avoid his own wet spot as he kicks his feet up behind him. “I never want him to leave. He’s mine.”

 

“He isn’t your lover.” Shu’s words are harsh, but his tone is gentle, and he bundles up Mika’s wet cloth, then brings over a blanket, tucking it around him. “He’s your beloved. But he’s not a wizard. If you want him to be loyal to you forever, you’re condemning him to a life without touch.”

 

Mika grumbles, thrashing a little underneath the blanket. “He’s _gonna_ be my lover,” he moodily says. “Eventually. When the Demon King comes back and fixes things. It ain’t gonna be like this forever, it can’t be.”

 

“Don’t say his name,” Shu warns. He closes his eyes, and the rest of the arousal is gone, washed away in a heartbeat next to the vastly more powerful longing he feels whenever he thinks of his lord. “It might be twenty years, though. Or fifty. You and I will still be young then, you know.”

 

“He won’t leave y’that long.” Mika has absolutely _nothing_ to support those words, but he believes it, all the same. He huddles up into the blanket, and peers up at Shu through the messy fall of his bangs, nibbling anxiously on his lower lip. “No one’s ever treated me like he has,” he finally, quietly says. “Arashi, he…he’s special. That makes it worse. Barely bein’ able t’touch someone, um, fuck, what’s the word…in a friend-way, that’s hard enough, but I’m not like you, Master. I think about sex a _lot,_ and Arashi’s real handsome, and so kind to me, so I just…wish I could make him feel good.”

 

Shu sighs, tucking the blanket more firmly around Mika, then settling behind him, cuddling him close through the thick fabric. “You think you’re the only one to be unable to touch someone you love? Don’t assume I don’t want it just as much as you, just because I talk about it less. At least you get to see him. But I...” He starts to tremble. “Thinking about what happened to me--if it happened to you--I couldn’t handle that.”

 

“It’s _not_ gonna happen to me,” Mika mumbles, snuggling back against Shu. “If all we’re doin’ is this for now…that’s okay, right? Nnnn, I know I’m not the only one that can’t touch someone I love, but…” He huffs, then twists in Shu’s arms to face him, butting his head into his chest. “Master. He’s gonna come back for you. He’s gonna fix everything. He said so, didn’t he?”

 

“He said so.” Shu closes his eyes. The longing is so intense that it feels as though it must be causing him physical damage for a moment, and he gasps, feeling that bond resonate so strongly that tears sting his eyes. “Ah...he’s thinking of me. Don’t mind me.”

 

“Y’should let me talk you off to get the edge off or somethin’,” Mika grumps sympathetically, freeing a hand from his blanket prison to pet Shu’s hair. “Or he could do it, all telepathically. You’re gonna go crazy.”

 

“Won’t help. Not right now. It’s not...” Shu turns his face, wiping his eyes. “Where’s Milady? Milady, come to me.”

 

A tinkling glass figure rises from the corner of the tent, doing a pirouette before settling near Shu. He relaxes marginally. “I’ll let you talk me off later, all right? I’m just wound too tightly right now.” It isn’t as if they haven’t done this a hundred times, though usually in the dead of night, in their separated beds.

 

“Hi, Milady,” Mika softly greets, though his hand doesn’t still from petting Shu’s hair. “Havin’ a bond sounds…really hard. I don’t think I want one, ever.”

 

“You’re absolutely sure that you don’t have one with the brute?” Shu presses. “The way you’re so devoted to him, even when you know it’s a bad idea, I have to wonder.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Mika hedges, twirling a strand of Shu’s hair around one finger. “I think…I woulda felt it by now, don’t you? At least a little. I dunno, I jus’ _really_ like him. And the way he swings his sword, so I can see all his back muscles, heh.”

 

“He’s a brute,” Shu says flatly. “Intelligent people don’t need to solve all of their problems by swinging swords at them.” He pauses, then adds, “Don’t tell him this, but it’s quite impressive, the way he’s managed to go from being a common child to being a Lord in just a year.”

 

“I tell him that all th’ time, sorry,” Mika sheepishly says. “I gotta. I think it’s real sexy that he works so hard. I think he’s real smart, jus’ not in the same way as you, and that’s okay. I ain’t that smart so it works out.”

 

“Don’t be absurd. As if I’d choose an apprentice who wasn’t smart. Don’t insult me, you failure.” Shu tucks his face into Mika’s hair, arms wrapped tight.

 

Mika lets out a pleased little sound and burrows closer, stuffing his face back into Shu’s chest. “Nnn. Sorry. You’re the smartest person I know, though, so it’s different.”

 

“That’s right. Don’t forget it.” Shu goes quiet for a moment, then says softly, “I heard you took down a berserker today. How are your toes?”

 

“Tingly,” Mika cheerfully says. “Real weird. Ah, I tried the barrier trick, it kinda worked. Only a couple of ghosties leaked out this time, maybe I’m gettin’ better at it…”

 

“That’s no reason to start using it more often,” Shu warns. “Not until you’re absolutely certain. I don’t want to be scraping any part of you off of a battlefield, tricks or no.”

 

“I’m not gonna die,” Mika grouses. “It’s not me that they wanna eat. Or explode. Or gore. Hey, have you ever petted a snog? Are they slimy, or…”

 

“Snog?” Shu blinks. Then, his eyes track over to the misshapen stuffed toy Mika had attempted to sew together a few days earlier, left within Arashi’s tent on a whim. “Oh. The Academy would certainly prefer you to call them by their proper names, serpecaniforms.”

 

“Not cute. Snog is much cuter. So? Have you petted one? Arashi won’t let me.”

 

“No, I don’t like animals.”

 

Mika’s eyebrows raise. “Uh huh. So that’s why you made all those dog figurines.”

 

Shu sniffs. “Dogs are different. Well-behaved dogs can be trained and accomplish tasks, which is more than I can say for useless apprentices.”

 

“Yeah, I’m useless,” Mika hums happily, butting his head firmly into Shu’s chest. “But I still am gonna pet a snog one day.”

 

“Not if I have anything to say about it. And I do. My opinion is the one that matters the most. Don’t forget it.”

 

“I won’t forget, Master.” Mika snuggles firmly up against him. “But I might still pet a dead one, anyway.”

 

“Mika.” Shu’s voice is stern. “What did I tell you? At least mutter it so low I can pretend not to hear you.”

 

“…But what if I like it when y’scold me?”

 

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all day.”


	9. Chapter 9

Somehow, the king expects miracles.

 

Arashi has heard that phrase muttered among soldiers before, but it had never concerned him much. Now, though, with the king’s newest orders burning a hole in his pocket, a sinking feeling in his stomach, he truly understands.

 

Before he can figure out how to go back to his men and explain what’s next, a hand claps his shoulder in friendly familiarity, and he starts, looking wildly around until he meets a pair of red, faintly-glowing eyes the likes of which he’s never seen before.

 

“Hello,” the owner of the eyes says, sounding sleepy. “That looked rough in there. Let me buy you a drink.”

 

And because almost anything sounds preferable to going back to his men right now, Arashi agrees, not knowing what he’s getting himself into.

 

Five beers later, the world is spinning sloppily around him, and he pulls the incriminating scroll out of his pocket, slamming it down on the table in front of his new companion, and another young man that he’d dragged over at some point. “You see, see this shit?” he demands, the words only slurred a little. “Attack the main flank. In winter. With, with no requisitions filled, from th’South. So that’s....that’s two weeks extra march. With no extra rations, an’ no more horses. Which’s...bad. We’re gon’ have to eat ‘em soon. Th’ horses, I mean.”

 

“Surely not,” the young stranger says, aghast. He’s clearly no more than Arashi’s age, with fine fastenings on his lovely deep blue surcoat, and combed-back red hair.

 

“It’s true,” his companion, who’d introduced himself as Sir Ritsu of his own lands, agrees. “I heard it. The king says he’s not granting any more army requisitions until there’s signs of progress.”

 

Arashi slams his tankard down on the thick plank of table, sending the other cups jumping slightly. “Progress,” he snorts. “On a war tha’s been goin’ on since...since my grandpa’s time. The damn creatures aren’t killin’ us all, isn’ that progress ‘nough?”

 

The youngest of the three hesitates, thumbing the side of his own tankard distractedly. “I don’t know you,” he carefully begins, “but…I’ve heard word of your feats. If…if you’re willing to speak of your needs and implore to one last audience, it’s very possible I could procure the funds you need.”

 

The words take a long minute to sink in. Arashi blinks slowly, but before he can say anything, Ritsu leans forward. “Isn’t it awful,” he murmurs, eyes glittering, “that our fine fighting men, keeping us safe, have to resort to private funding? A real king shouldn’t force his armies to do that kind of thing, that’s what I think.”

 

“It’s why my family has become rather…selective, with how we back the king’s own purchases these days. Ah, Lord Tsukasa of the Suou family, at your service,” the redhead properly introduces. “Ritsu—forgive me, but perhaps we shouldn’t be so bold as to speak like this in public.”

 

“Good thing I rented us a private room, eh?” Ritsu says, with a sly smile. “And I got us a couple girls to keep us warm in there.” He gestures at a small door in the back of the tavern. “Help me bring the good Captain, eh? He looks heavy....too much work.”

 

“Come with me, Captain,” Tsukasa sighs, climbing up from his chair and urging Arashi to his feet, an arm slung around him to support him. “He’s not as heavy as he looks, Ritsu—but if you leave this all to me, I’m not paying for the drinks _or_ women!”

 

“I can stand,” Arashi protests. “I, where are we goin’?” The world is spinning a bit, and he struggles to find his footing at first, then manages it. “I just wanna keep my men safe, y’know...I have wizards, but they can’t make food, does he think they can make food? I, oh--”

 

“Watch the carpet,” Ritsu murmurs, sliding the door open, then scooting into a plush booth. The table is stacked with booze, and a voluptuous lady rouses from a half-slumber, curling her arms around him from behind.

 

“Welcome, milords,” another lady murmurs, cleavage nearly bursting from her bodice, ties falling loosely open. “Come sit with us, it’s ever so cold outside.”

 

Tsukasa’s eyes immediately slide down from the woman’s face, and stay there. He quickly slides into the booth, dragging Arashi down next to him, and offers the lady a beaming smile. “Good evening, Milady. A glass of wine, please? Captain, shall we call another lady for you? I’m afraid I’m not terribly good at sharing, and Ritsu, well…” 

 

The room snaps into focus. Unfortunately, that’s the end of his pleasant buzz, as sobriety usually returns quickly to Arashi once he first comes back to himself. He shakes his head, waving the stranger towards the woman. “By all means, Milord, enjoy yourself. I’ve a lover at home who won’t want to smell another lady’s perfume, but please, don’t blush on my account.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Ritsu murmurs, pulling his lady into his lap, her dark curls spilling over bare shoulders as she lets out an appreciative murmur. “Mm, you don’t mind if I have a little nibble, do you, lovely?”

 

“Keep drinking with us, then,” Tsukasa insists, pushing a glass in Arashi’s direction as he settles down, hooking a finger into the lacings of the woman’s bodice to neatly unravel them. “If you wouldn’t mind, Milady. Ah, what were we talking about, right, finances. I won’t see your men starve, especially by the king’s hand.”

 

Arashi takes a long breath, and clinks his glass cheerfully against Tsukasa’s. “It’s my pleasure to be your companion for the night, then,” he declares, and takes a large swig. “What’s your pleasure, Milord? A contingent of my best men for a private guard for you? Is there an enemy of yours in the West you want me to vacation at?”

 

Ritsu perks up, looking up from where he’s currently kissing, or possibly sucking, at the lady’s neck, one hand on her inner thigh, scooting up her skirts. He licks his lips, flecks of blood dotting his lips. “What’s that last one?”

 

Arashi laughs. “Old soldier trick, from what I’ve heard. You make sure your command is close to your political rival’s estates around eventide, then invoke King’s Right of Harbor, and make yourself his lawful guest for a few nights, drinking his ale and eating his food, leaving the place in disarray when you leave, and every lady with a swelling belly. It’s a huge strain on his resources.”

 

“Oh, I don’t need any of that,” Tsukasa says with a shake of his head, sipping his own wine as his hand remains firmly attached to one of his woman’s breasts, gently kneading and stroking as she sighs into his shoulder. “Though that _is_ funny. No, there’s only thing I want from you, and it’s the eventual support of the prince. You know,” he adds nonchalantly, “Should an uprising occur, for one reason or another.”

 

Arashi’s tankard stops halfway to his mouth, and he carefully sets it down again. The sense that something important has happened occurs, and he pauses.

 

“Mm, that’s fair,” Ritsu murmurs, scooting his lady into his lap, one hand disappearing completely beneath her skirts as she starts to squirm. “I’ve met that prince several times--he’s quite fond of the army, you know, especially them being well-fed. Heh, Tsukasaaa, that’s what you like, isn’t it? You just like it when people are _well-fed_ , like your pretty friend there, eh?”

 

“I appreciate a woman that treats herself generously,” Tsukasa says without batting an eye. “Honestly, Ritsu, you’re going to embarrass that poor girl.” He downs another mouthful of wine, and looks back to Arashi, huffing out a breath. “The prince is a _far_ better man than his father ever could be. He’s talented, brilliant, kind-hearted, a man that truly cares about his people—and that’s who I stand behind. My family is one of the two wealthiest families in the land, and I can finance anything you need so long as you agree to support the prince as well.”

 

“What would such...support entail?” Arashi asks carefully, tracing his finger around the rim of his tankard. He watches the movement of Tsukasa’s hand on the lady’s breast, finding himself almost mesmerized. Tsukasa has lovely hands, his mind offers, and he looks back at the table, face flushing. It’s been several weeks since he’d dared to talk to Mika across his tent, hand wrapped around himself. In the past week, he’s awakened every morning sweaty and aching, stiff under his sticky sheets, hungry and desperate to pin someone to the ground. Watching two gorgeous men enjoying themselves with women isn’t how he usually enjoys himself, but at this point, with Mika locked safely away in the Academy for the week, it’s as much as he can get.

 

He clears his throat, and looks back down at his ale. “I won’t associate my company with agitators.”

 

“Mm, nothing like that,” Ritsu says slyly, making Arashi realize he’s been well and truly sucked into a plot. The beautiful young man’s teeth glint in the low lantern light. “Just keep a weather eye out. And if it ever _does_ come to conflict, you’ll be with us. Have you met the prince? He’s a fine young man, strong and kind and honorable.”

 

“Let me be clear that I’m not reaching for a rebellion,” Tsukasa dismissively says, and he downs the rest of his glass before simply giving into the urge to pull his own lady into his lap, yanking her bodice open the rest of the way, and firmly splaying his hands across her generous breasts. He sighs, pleased, and lets his head knock back into the high, plush back of the booth. “I just want to make sure that I’m not giving my money away to someone that is only going to turn their back on the right cause later. You seem like a good man, Captain Arashi, and I understand that you’re rather, ah, inexperienced, in the ways of nobles, but kissing up to the king isn’t the only way to get where you want to be. Forgive me if that comes off as rude, I’m a bit drunk and you are _so_ soft, Milady.”

 

“I don’t mind, Milord,” the lady murmurs with a little gasp, splaying her thighs over Tsukasa’s, arching back against him. “And your hands are so soft and, ahh...”

 

“You would like the noisy ones,” Ritsu laughs lowly, his own lady squirming more insistently now, hand still invisible under her skirts. “Mm, Lord Tsukasa is right, Captain. I know you by reputation, I’ve lived in Ostran for ten years. They say your name a lot there--that you’re a fine, upstanding man with a good head for battle and a strong sense of loyalty. I just want to introduce you to a few other men like you, and the prince.”

 

Arashi nods slowly, eyes drifting back to Tsukasa’s hands no matter how he tries to keep them behaving properly. “Your prince...would he be, ah, friendly, to my interests? Assuming there is an agitation--”

 

“We’re honestly just hoping the king dies soon,” Ritsu says bluntly. “Of natural causes--here, arch up a bit, sweetheart, I’ll give you a surprise.” A moment later, after the sound of buttons loosening, the girl in his lap gasps, low and throaty, and Ritsu’s eyes lid.

 

Tsukasa licks his lips, his hands hands cupping and squeezing, thumbs dragging upward to brush over his woman’s nipples, gently, distractedly twisting them. “The prince has no idea of the support he has at this point, I’d wager. He’s as young as you and I, Captain—we’re speaking in terms of a far future, but if there’s something in particular you need him to show an interest in, it’s not like I can’t start putting it in his ear…”

 

Tsukasa has a nice voice, especially right now when Arashi is a little tipsy, watching him skillfully work his lady into a panting, writhing frenzy. He looks over, eyes flicking over the way that Tsukasa licks his lips, and he feels heat pool deep in his belly. _Damn_ , he thinks, hand curling hungrily around the handle of his tankard. “I...yes, of course,” he says softly, trying to stay in his correct state of mind. “I’m just...I want my men taken care of. And perhaps, maybe, if he could look into the breast interests of the war’s future--”

 

“Breast interests,” Ritsu snickers, interrupting.

 

Arashi blinks. “What?”

 

“My god, is your lover so possessive that she can’t understand a nobleman’s needs?” Tsukasa grumbles, and he releases one of the nipples he keeps toying with to reach over and grab Arashi’s hand. “I like you, you’re good—I’ll share, as a gesture of good will. Doesn’t that sound fun, Milady?” he breathes, turning his face into his woman’s neck, nuzzling her hair aside as he twists a nipple between his fingertips. “The Captain’s very handsome, isn’t he? Not entirely to my taste, but…”

 

A bucket of cold water would have been less effective. The arousal flares in Arashi when Tsukasa grabs his hand, then wilts and fades the second Tsukasa brings it to that soft, plump breast. He squares his jaw, turning his hand to cup the softness there, a little smile all he can muster. _If I was ever unsure about my own proclivities,_ he thinks dourly, uncomfortably aware of Ritsu’s sharp, glowing eyes on him. _This would clear it right up for certain._ “I’m grateful, Milord, to be sure,” he says softly, as the girl bites her bottom lip, obviously enjoying the touch of his hand. “But I wouldn’t dream of intruding. Please, have your fun, don’t worry about me.”

 

“Are you a monk?” Ritsu asks bluntly. “I like to seal deals by seeing my friends find pleasure when we’re talking about something so...delicate.”

 

“I’m no monk,” Arashi protests. “My lover--”

 

“Must have solid gold between her legs,” Ritsu teases. “Or does it not work?”

 

Tsukasa pauses, turning his own head to stare at Arashi for a moment before heaving a sigh. “You _know_ it works, Ritsu, you’ve been paying more attention than I can,” he complains, even as he drops Arashi’s hand and curls his grasp around Arashi’s thigh instead. “Like I said, you’re not entirely to my taste, but I’m apparently to yours, and it’s not like I’m unwilling…this is the capital, you just have to be _smart_ about who you let know about this kind of thing…”

 

Arashi’s breath stops.

 

His heart thuds to life, as loud as a hammer striking in an empty room, and his mouth goes dry. The beer goes to his head, and the hand on his thigh is warm, promising, with words that he’s hungry to hear, driving away the cold spike of loneliness in his chest. He licks his lips, trying to think of something to say that doesn’t sound brokenly eager.

 

But the next second, Ritsu slides over, a hand on his other thigh, and he gives up. “I suppose it’s no more dangerous than being associated with agitators like you two,” he grunts, and lurches to the side, leaning in to kiss Tsukasa’s neck.

 

Ritsu’s chuckle is rich and dark, and his hand shifts, moving properly into Arashi’s lap to stroke and cup at the hardness swelling to life. “You want to give up your arse for this, Tsukasa?” he breathes, bouncing his girl, who lets out a squeal as he starts to weave a spell. “We can keep the girls...”

 

“Why don’t you give yours up?” Tsukasa grumbles, even as he obliges Arashi’s advances, tilting his head to the side with a little, hitching sigh. He drags a hand down from his lady’s breasts to hike up her skirts, his hand sliding between those soft, thick thighs. “Or—no, better idea. I’ll let you do whatever you want,” he begins, giving Arashi’s thigh a squeeze. “But Ritsu, I get your mouth. For a _week.”_

 

“Wait,” Arashi murmurs, starting to realize something.

 

“Deal,” Ritsu overrides with a lazy grin, giving his lady’s neck another bite in pleasure. When he’s done, he reaches a hand up, looking sated and cloudy with pleasure, long fingernails curling through Arashi’s hair at the base of his neck. “You taste good, anyway, must be all the milk you drink.”

 

Arashi’s head spins. He starts to get the feeling that he’s been had, that these two have planned on this for longer than he’d expected, but he’s too far gone to think clearly. He moves, letting his hand drag down Tsukasa’s back, feeling the lean strength there. “You’ve got a lovely body,” he says softly, voice nearly shaking from how hard he is against Ritsu’s hand, how much he _needs_ this right now. “Take your shirt off, please...”

 

Tsukasa shuts his eyes briefly, presses a kiss to the side of his lady’s neck, then neatly deposits her to the side. “I’ll be back for you,” he firmly says, one-handedly working open the fastenings of his jacket to shrug it off as he turns toward Arashi. Well—even if Arashi isn’t precisely his type, he’s still beautiful, in his own way. “Do you even have a lover?” he demands. “Or was that a lie? They’re a man, I’m assuming.”

 

“If you have one,” Ritsu murmurs, squeezing gently, “it’s a very...gentle relationship, I think, or you wouldn’t be so...mm.”

 

Arashi sucks in a breath, and lets his hands wander, trembling slightly as he lays them on Tsukasa’s chest. Feeling that broad, flat plane instead of the softness of breasts makes his mouth water, heart thudding as his fingertips spread out, thumbs brushing over the gentle swell of muscles, then hardening nipples. “I have a...beloved,” he says softly. “But we aren’t allowed to touch. That’s all I’ll--”

 

“A wizard,” Ritsu says, but his tone is so knowing, so compassionate, that Arashi can’t even be afraid. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s none the wiser. Just enjoy yourself tonight, Captain.”

 

“Have you ever… _been_ with a man, then?” Tsukasa asks, all sorts of mystified that a soldier/nobleman _hasn’t_ been sleeping his way through the ranks. He shifts his way closer, shrugging off his coat the rest of the way, and hesitates only a second more before slinging a leg over Arashi’s thighs to climb properly into his lap. “Honestly, it’s a good thing you ran into us tonight, and not someone else that would truly eat you alive,” he sniffs, his fingers dragging down the front of Arashi’s chest, unfastening his coat as he goes. “The capital isn’t kind to men like you, Captain.”

 

“Nowhere is kind to men like me,” Arashi says with a grunt, yanking his breeches open. “I’m from the West, the Capital is a piece of cake. And you...are very sweet yourself.”

 

He reaches up, only the smallest sliver of guilt niggling at him as he cups Tsukasa’s face. “I hope you like this a little bit,” he whispers. “I know you don’t like--”

 

“He likes it just fine,” Ritsu murmurs, leaning over to nibble Arashi’s ear, setting his own lovely lady to the side. “Spread your legs, Tsukasa, I’ll get you ready. Just like old times, mm?” His spell sparks to life, settling around them, even as it works to make the magic invisible around Arashi. No use being obvious to his secret magic lover, after all.

 

Tsukasa exhales a low, grumbling noise, but it’s far less a complaint about the situation, more annoyed that his own body seems _so_ content to respond. “Fine,” he murmurs, squirming his way out of his breeches. “Don’t misunderstand, Captain,” he quietly says, his eyes lidded as he drags his fingers over Arashi’s bare skin, tracing the line of his collarbone, his thumbs rubbing over Arashi’s nipples. “Like Ritsu says, I like this just fine. Just, mm, I have high standards.”

 

Arashi groans, cock hard against Tsukasa’s thigh, urgent and eager even to rub against that soft skin. He feels Ritsu’s hand moving, and watches those fingers disappear into Tsukasa, something that makes his hands clench on Tsukasa’s thighs. “You look so lovely like this,” he whispers, hardly able to believe this is happening right now, that he’s about to make love to a man for the first time and it’s _two_ men, of all things. “I want to watch you sink down on me, do his fingers feel good?”

 

“Using the best lubricant there is,” Ritsu murmurs with a smirk, curling his fingers. “Straight from between her thighs. Thought you’d like that.”

 

Tsukasa’s mouth falls open, his back arching with a shudder raking sharply down his spine. “T…that’s… _very_ lewd, you know,” he gasps, his hands dragging up to grip at Arashi’s shoulders, perfectly manicured nails biting into his skin. This might not be his first preference for a fun evening, but Ritsu’s fingers _make_ it that way, and a low, rumbling groan escapes Tsukasa’s throat before he can bite it back. His thighs tremble underneath Arashi’s grip as he rocks back down against Ritsu’s hand, biting his lip to keep back another sound. “C…captain, you…ah…I…”

 

Arashi’s hands are clumsier than he ever remembers them being, closing around Tsukasa’s waist, dragging him closer. Ritsu’s fingers work in thoroughly, and Arashi watches Tsukasa’s face change, leaning in to press his lips against the young man’s neck, nibbling at the soft skin, making that sweet pale skin bloom red under his teeth. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he urges, hands dipping down, curling around Tsukasa’s thighs and squeezing. “I’ve got to be inside you, please, I won’t last much longer--”

 

“He likes to complain,” Ritsu says softly, twisting his fingers. “But he can take plenty in here, and he loves it, once you get him started.”

 

The twist of Ritsu’s hand makes Tsukasa arch and shudder, clenching down hard. His cock twitches between his legs, and he squirms forward to rub it against the flat, hard plane of Arashi’s stomach. “Y-you can put it in,” he pants, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline as he reaches a fumbling hand down for Arashi’s cock. His vision blurs, the heady mix of arousal and tipsiness making his head swim. “Ah…Ritsu, help, I’m drunk and things feel too good…”

 

“You don’t need help,” Ritsu says, very seriously, as he pulls out his hand. He reaches down, grabbing Arashi’s extremely hard cock, guiding it to that slick hole. “You need a thick cock up your arse, don’t you?”

 

All of the rest of Arashi’s sense leaves him in a moment, when he lurches up, burying himself inside Tsukasa’s sweet hole. “You’re so--oh, gods, oh, gods--”

 

Tsukasa bites into Arashi’s shoulder, muffling the noises that want to escape his throat when Arashi’s suddenly _in him_ , hard and thick and inside so far that it takes his breath away. He hiccups, slumping forward against Arashi’s chest when he finally stops biting down, and instead pants open-mouthed, his thighs trembling as he grinds down slowly, savoring that aching stretch and the tense heat that pools in his belly. “Make it good, Captain,” he breathes, butting his face into Arashi’s neck. “I don’t do this for just anyone…”

 

“That’s--a lot of pressure,” Arashi grunts, hips canting up, slamming into the sweet heat above him, grinding in deep, mindlessly seeking more of that beautiful tightness. He leans up, catching Tsukasa’s lips in a hard kiss as he squeezes the man’s thighs, fingerprints sinking into the soft skin there. His strength is as much a liability here as an asset, with how careful he has to be to avoid hurting his partner.

 

Ritsu isn’t making it any better, hovering nearby smelling of cardamum and black silk, murmuring erotic words in both of their ears, urging him on as he lurches. “Is that good?” he asks, eyes searching. “Is it--do you like it?”

 

“It really is your first time, isn’t it?” Ritsu murmurs, stroking Arashi’s hair.

 

The noise that escapes Tsukasa’s throat is a yelp turned to a groan, and he bites at Arashi’s lower lip, sucking on his tongue as he shifts and arches up onto his knees, his toes curling with a breathy little grunt leaving his lips when Arashi pulls him down. “Y-you have a nice cock,” Tsukasa breathes, his eyes fluttering as his head thunks down into Arashi’s shoulder, and he pants shallowly with every roll of his hips down, squeezing tight around the thick cock inside of him. “F-feels good…when you’re in deep…”

 

“Yeah?” Arashi listens hungrily, soaking up every word Tsukasa gives him, trying to learn on his feet while he thrusts in. He keeps himself in deep, rocking shallowly, driving into Tsukasa’s ass with every slow grind. “You look--so beautiful, I just want you--”

 

Ritsu leans in quick, nipping at Tsukasa’s neck, asking sweetly, “Can I have a little nibble, please? You smell so good, I can’t wait to have my mouth on you all week, just give me a drop...”

 

Arashi is already a _lot_ , and his cock is more than what Tsukasa wants to deal with on any given day—or so he’d say any other time, but right now, it’s _good_ to be this full, with Arashi’s sword-calloused hands on his flesh, sweat sticking them together. Ritsu is bordering on overstimulating and he hasn’t even bitten yet, and Tsukasa shudders, squirming down just with the nip of Ritsu’s teeth. His chest heaves, his nails raking up against Arashi’s back as his head lolls to the side. “G-go ahead,” he whispers, licking at his lips. “But not too much, I…”

 

Ritsu’s mouth descends just as Arashi cries out, hips snapping up hard over and over. He can’t remember ever coming this hard, flooding into Tsukasa’s hole, filling him thoroughly until the mess is dripping out around his cock.

 

Ritsu drinks greedily, then pulls his mouth away, swallowing and fetching a last lick to the abused, punctured skin. “Mmm, so tasty, this is why I love having you around, you know...”

 

Tsukasa feels himself melt with a rasping, ragged sound, clinging to Arashi’s neck as his cock twitches and throbs, coming in a steady stream over Arashi’s stomach and his own thighs. His neck tingles, the lingering sensation of that bite trickling through his veins, and Tsukasa slumps forward with a groan. “Commoners…always come so much,” he grumpily mutters against Arashi’s skin. “Ahh, what a mess…Ritsu…Ritsuuu, the pact took, right?”

 

“Sure did,” Ritsu says dreamily, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. “Just so you know, Captain, that’s what a blood pact feels like. The fun kind.” He winks sleepily. “Just means that no one here can talk about our little...agitations, as you call them, apart from the rest of us. Don’t worry about it, it won’t hurt you.”

 

Arashi’s head feels fuzzy, but he doubts it’s magic. It feels more like delicious pleasurable aftershocks, combined with the aftereffects of all that beer, his mind spinning from everything with the king, with his army, with the fact that he’s just betrayed the love of his very young life, all at once. He blinks, then squeezes Tsukasa’s ass, nuzzling into his hair. “As long as I don’t have to do anything, good.”

 

“Don’t squeeze me, I’m sore,” Tsukasa complains, though he doesn’t exactly make an attempt to move other than to half-heartedly shift, reaching back to grab someone’s half-empty glass of ale. “Is anyone hungry?” he grumbles. “I’m hungry. I hate that I’m always hungry afterwards.”

 

Ritsu plants a firm kiss on his lady’s cheek. “Fetch us a platter of meat and chips, love, will you?”

 

She giggles and tucks her skirts down, bustling out of the little room.

 

Arashi gently sets Tsukasa down on the bench, stroking his hair, showing as much tenderness as he can after feeling like he’s definitely been hoodwinked. “You both had this plan ready for a while, hmm?” he asks, trying not to sound accusatory.

 

“Yep,” Ritsu says, totally unrepentant. “Had my eye on you for a couple years. Don’t worry, it’s not a big plot, we’re just collecting like-minded people.”

 

Tsukasa sprawls back across his own woman, content to shove his face into her breasts and be petted. Yes, that’s an _excellent_ reward. “You should be happy about this, Captain. Not only do we have a good cause, but your only other source of funding is from the Himemiya family, and if you ever talk to them, I’m _immediately_ taking away every single dollar I’ve ever given you.”

 

“Himemiya?” Arashi cocks his head, searching his memory. “I swear I’ve heard that name before.”

 

“In the Academy,” Ritsu suggests. “I’m guessing, because I don’t see you at court much. The brat is a wizard in training.”

 

“He _used_ to be the only son and scion of the closest family to the crown, but now look at him,” Tsukasa smugly says. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a wizard,” he hastily adds, sparing a glance to Ritsu. “But—well, it certainly ruins every normal life opportunity, and his family is now furious. Serves them right.”

 

“Are you a wizard?” Arashi asks, noting the look with surprise. Cold fear seizes him, and he sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Wait, are--”

 

“You’re safe,” Ritsu assures him immediately.

 

Arashi doesn’t relax. “How?”

 

Seeing that he won’t be dissuaded, Ritsu leans forward, whispering in his ear, “Because Watchers can only see humans.”

 

“Honestly, what kind of normal person would have a taste for blood?” Tsukasa huffs with a roll of his eyes, lifting a hand to idly rub at the bite mark on his neck. “Captain, if your beloved is truly a wizard, you _need_ to make friends with people like us. What’s his name, by the way?”

 

Seeing Arashi hesitate, Ritsu laughs. “You already know enough about us to get us executed for treason,” he reminds him, poking his side. “Blood pact or no. Tell us his name, maybe I can protect him if anything goes sideways.”

 

Arashi’s face heats up, and he turns to the side. “Mika,” he says softly.

 

Ritsu’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “The necromancer? Heh, no wonder you like me...”

 

Tsukasa stares for a long moment, then leans over to snatch up his filled glass of wine. “Things really do happen for a reason, don’t they,” he mutters. “If all goes well, Captain, I can’t imagine you won’t get what you want out of this situation. There’s…quite a bit of special interest surrounding the necromancer’s master.”

 

“That’s enough talking about him,” Ritsu warns, grabbing his own cup. “Ahh, booze never tastes as good after a sweet girl’s neck. Sorry for your ill luck, Captain, I can’t imagine how obnoxious it must be to have a preference for one sex over another.”

 

“That sounds very troublesome,” Tsukasa agrees, quick to switch topics when one is _much_ safer than the other, and he’s likely to run his mouth when he’s had too much alcohol. “Beautiful women with large breasts and beautiful men that—well, it’s better if they look like women, like—I mean, have you _seen_ the prince? I have. Often.”

 

“Having any taste like that is a pain,” Ritsu says, stretching out his arms with a sigh. “Everyone who smells good is good to me. And no one is as good as my Mao, so it doesn’t matter much.”

 

Arashi blinks, taking another drink. “How beautiful and perfect is this prince, anyway?”

 

“Words can’t _describe_ —I need to drag you to court to see, just being seen with me would do wonders for you, anyway. He’s as lovely and delicate as a girl, but I’ve never met a better archer…he wins every tournament, damn him,” Tsukasa sighs, his eyes glazing a bit. “Getting close to him is almost impossible, though. I daresay he barely remembers my name, he has his own interest and I can’t even _blame_ him…”

 

“There’s a tournament tomorrow,” Ritsu points out. “Mm, we should go. Being seen with me will give both of us some credence in the West, with you as a new noble and me as...well, me.”

 

Arashi turns to look at him. “What is your title, exactly?”

 

“Uh...Lord? Sure, Lord,” Ritsu says, uncaring. “I’ve been a lot of things, but I married a wealthy lady in the West a few years ago, before her sad death.”

 

“Um, she--”

 

“Plague,” Ritsu clarifies quickly. “I didn’t do anything. Didn’t want to, she was pretty and tasty.”

 

Arashi grimaces. “Sorry for your loss, I remember that plague. Four of my cousins died.”

 

“That sounds terrible, but we should absolutely go to the tournament.” Tsukasa’s eyes are all but sparkling with the idea now, and he sits up, grabbing for Arashi’s hand. “Then you can see exactly how lovely he is—I mean, yes, I think he’ll be a great king as well, but isn’t it important for someone to be nice to look at? I think so.”

 

“He’s embarrassingly shallow, isn’t he?” Ritsu asks fondly.

 

“I don’t know, Lord Ritsu,” Arashi admits. “I think it’s important to be very beautiful, yes!”

 

“See? We can be friends,” Tsukasa firmly says, patting Arashi’s hand. “One thing, though—I would _greatly_ appreciate it if we don’t ever speak of this night again. The sex part of it, I mean. I have a reputation, you have a beloved, let’s just not.”

 

“Of course,” Arashi says hastily. “We don’t need to talk about it. Ah...but just so you know...” He takes Tsukasa’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I really enjoyed it. It was wonderful, thank you.”

 

“You’re very nice, Captain. It’s a shame you aren’t more my type.”

 

“You know,” Arashi says with a sigh, “you’re cuter when you’re not saying that twenty times a night.”

 

“My apologies, I just prefer to be honest.” Unfazed, Tsukasa turns back to his woman. “Now, if neither of you mind, I’m going to have an enjoyable night, and I’ll see you at the tournament tomorrow.”


	10. Chapter 10

Between war campaigns, expanding research facilities, and rapidly expanding posts all over the country, the Academy seems empty.

 

That bodes well for Mao and the missive in his hand when he arrives at the shared quarters of one Nightcloak Shu and his Nooncloak tag-along, and he knocks briskly. Their stay-over couldn’t be better timed; with Captain Arashi temporarily tucked away within the capital, with most other Academy officials preoccupied elsewhere, there is little that can get in the way. “Excellency,” he softly calls. “A word.”

 

There’s a long minute before the door finally swings open, revealing Shu standing looking weary, wearing his full uniform, a paper packet of needles in his hand. “You are interrupting,” he says sternly. “Ask Mika for permission to enter, you frighten him.”

 

The only sign of Mika, in fact, is the tail end of his robes sticking out from underneath one of the beds—both of which have obviously been pushed together, but for now, hastily tugged apart a few centimeters. Mao sighs. “Excellency, it’s not my intention to frighten you.”

 

Silence follows. Mao looks back to Shu, his eyebrows raised. “This is important, or I wouldn’t disturb the two of you.”

 

“Make it good,” Shu warns, and turns to the dressform in the corner, currently displaying a bodice and the beginnings of a skirt. “You’re interrupting my private time, and I’ve already completed my research for the day. You should know by now how little tolerance I have for the nonsense from your masters.”

 

Mao pulls the door shut behind him, and immediately, the silence that drops over the room is startling. It’s enough that Mika shifts underneath the bed, warily poking his head out, a single eye peering out from underneath the heavy fall of his bangs. “Forgive me, Excellency,” Mao begins, and drops to one knee in front of Shu. He pulls free a wax-sealed letter from the inside pocket of his own robes, and offers it up with a bow of his head. “My master—your lord—insisted this be delivered to you safely.”

 

Shu’s breath stutters in his throat, then dies.

 

He reaches out, eyes fixed on the seal, as familiar to him as the script of his own name, imbued with the subtle strength of magic that even Rei’s best seal can’t completely hide.

 

A part of him insists that it must be a trick. The Academy has tricked him before, lured him in before just to mock and punish him, but...

 

In the end, it’s Rei, and he has to trust. With a surprisingly steady hand, he reaches out and cracks the seal, reading the words in that achingly familiar hand.

 

_My love,_

 

_Even if you find yourself lost, believe in me and reach out your hand. We will be brought together. Be patient and keep your eyes towards me alone._

 

“When?” he asks, voice hoarse and hollow. “When did you see him?”

 

“This time last week, Excellency.” Mao lifts his head, hesitating for a moment. “That’s as much as I’m allowed to tell you, I’m afraid—for your safety and his.”

 

Mika slowly slithers out from underneath the bed, obviously wary as he hauls himself to his feet and attaches himself to Shu’s sleeve. He peers over to read the letter, his brow furrowing. “Are you sure it’s from him?” he lowly presses. “What if it’s a trick? This guy’s a watcher, this could be a test, it ain’t like it’s a secret about you an’ Rei…”

 

“This isn’t a test,” Mao patiently says. “Excellency, I know that you can sense my master’s magic within that seal. I can’t duplicate something like that; I’m enhanced, but I’m still only human.”

 

“It’s genuine,” Shu says softly, blinking as Milady flutters down off of her shelf chair, coming to rest in a kneel next to Shu’s thigh, providing silent comfort. “If it is a trap...”

 

He laughs, bitter and low. “I can’t say that I care any longer. Well, Watcher. What do you want? He wouldn’t have sent me that if he didn’t have something in the works.”

 

“He does, but I don’t know what it is,” Mao admits, just barely keeping a hefty amount of irritation from his voice. “He’s terribly scattered, and you know this better than most. What I _can_ tell you is that he’s on the move again, and I believe his end goal is to eliminate the Emperor entirely take take the Academy as his own again. Until then…consider me at your service in his stead. I can’t guaranteed perfectly specialized treatment, but I hope you’ve already found your life to be somewhat easier. His Excellency Mika’s, as well—my master says you two come as a set.”

 

“Indeed.” Shu rests his hand on the back of Mika’s neck, proprietary and protective. “Can you get him messages, from time to time? Don’t think me ungrateful, it’s more than I expected.”

 

“Yes,” Mao answers immediately, glancing up to hold Shu’s gaze. “But the timing of such things has to be carefully arranged. Fortunately, I have a reason to frequent your contract holder’s war camps now. That will make it _much_ easier.”

 

Mika frowns, tightening his hold upon Shu’s sleeve. “You yelled at me before,” he lowly accuses. “I dunno ‘bout this, Master.”

 

“That’s because you were being unnecessarily reckless,” Mao exasperatedly says. “And because I didn’t want someone else to come across you doing anything stupid. Better me than someone else, I assure you.”

 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” Shu warns, hand tightening on Mika’s neck. “You broke the rules willfully and you know it, putting your Captain’s life at risk. And you’re both still alive.”

 

His eyes narrow, and he steps closer, eyes glittering. “To whom is your ultimate loyalty? A difficult question for a spy, I suppose, but an important one to me.”

 

Mika growls, much like a scruffed cat, but he doesn’t utter another protest beyond that as he flops his head forward against Shu’s shoulder and glowers.

 

Mao, unfazed, doesn’t move from where he kneels except to tilt his head back to better look up at Shu. “I’m bound to my master’s command,” he softly answers. “And I hate the Emperor, and what he’s made the Academy stand for. I hope that suffices as an answer, Excellency.”

 

Shu nods stiffly. “It does. Very well. You’ve delivered your message. When I have need of your services, I’ll send for you. You may go.” _And then I can slump down and shake for a while._

 

Mao nods, climbing to his feet with a last bow. “Take care,” he says, and the door clicks shut behind him, the room’s silence crushed with every humming strand of magic returning.

 

Mika exhales a short breath, tugging on Shu’s arm. “This is good, right?” he carefully presses. “It…it means the Emperor ain’t gonna be able to do stuff to us so easily, right? I told you Rei was gonna look out for you.”

 

Shu slides down, letting his head hit the thin pillow on his bare bed, the tremors taking him. Just the threat of being reported to the Emperor’s torturers would be enough to send him into a spiral. The idea of his Lord watching over him, keeping him safe, sending him aid, is enough to make him nearly comatose. “Hold me,” he manages through chattering teeth, eyes squeezed tightly shut, one tiny glass hand touching his fingertip.

 

Mika immediately tumbles after him, wrapping all four limbs around Shu and dragging his own cloak over both of them. “See, see, it’s gonna be fine,” he whispers, snuggling against him and pressing his lips to the top of Shu’s head. “I _told you_ it was gonna be okay. He loves y’so much, he sent someone t’take care of you—it ain’t even someone useless like me, y’know? It’s one of the Emperor’s highest aides, so you’re _real_ safe now.”

 

“How d-dare you,” Shu sniffs, burying his face into the threadbare pillow. “I’d never have someone useless as an apprentice. T-take it back.”

 

“B-but I’m pretty useless in this kinda thing.” Mika squeezes him, stuffing his face into Shu’s shoulder. “If it were jus’ the Emperor, I’d kill him all day. I’d never let him hurt you again. But it ain’t, so I can’t do much.”

 

“Stop talking yourself down,” Shu orders, hands clutching at fabric. “I won’t have it. It isn’t your duty to care for me--are you calling me useless? M-maybe I am a failure after all...”

 

“No—no, you’re the best, you’re my master so of _course_ you’re the best,” Mika insistently says. “I—I know it ain’t my duty to take care of you, but I wanna, ‘cause you take care of me so much, so it’s only fair, y’know?” He bites his lip, worriedly plucking at his own cloak. “Do you…do you really think Rei can take over? The Academy would be a lot different with him in charge, I bet…”

 

“He can do anything.”

 

The words are quiet, but fervent, with a hitch on the end of the words. “Don’t doubt him, not ever. The longer he’s away, the harder he’s working, the more dramatic this will be. I’m--I’m a fool, I doubted him.”

 

“Y’didn’t doubt him, you were jus’…” _Scared, alone._ Saying that out loud though won’t make Shu feel better, so Mika just trails off, cuddling closer, burying himself up against Shu’s side. “It feels like he can do anythin’,” he softly agrees. “If he’s got someone like that watcher here and takin’ care of you…that’s real good. I wonder who else is a spy, heh. That’s kinda great, right? Master, you’ll be runnin’ the Academy next to him, that’s what you’ve always wanted.”

 

“I _do_ like being in charge.” With that thought, some of the trembling fades, and Shu takes a ragged breath, relaxing back against Mika’s slender warmth. “I have a lot of ideas for how to fix this place, you know. For one thing, the color scheme.”

 

“Yeah, ’s too much white,” Mika agrees, stroking a hand slowly through Shu’s hair. “Nnn, does that mean you’d be the Emperor? Though if Rei is, then you’d be, uh…his…Em…press….?”

 

“That’s very unnecessarily gendered of you,” Shu says critically. “I’ll be his Consort, obviously.”

 

“It ain’t me genderin’ on purpose, I jus’ didn’t know a word for it,” Mika complains. “Consort, then. Whatever, you’d still be in charge, it’d be good. Lemme have extra blankets when you’re in charge, it’s always cold in here.”

 

“They’ll be much finer.” Shu’s eyes mist over, and he descends into his imagination. “Tapestries will be important, of course, and the moulding on the windows, that will have to go. The carpets, gone, replaced with glossy hardwoods and the most beautiful runners. Plush mattresses, obviously, and coverlets, and furs in the winter. We’ll update the furnaces, and the roof as well. Ah, there’s no end to what I want to fix here, even beyond...the personal.”

 

“That sounds _so_ much nicer,” Mika sighs wistfully, nuzzling his face into Shu’s neck. “Like a place people’ll actually wanna be. Much less scary. I wanna be able to give all my plushies a good place to live, too. They get upset on the battlefield.”

 

“Indeed. They deserve better.” Shu reaches down, stroking his thumb over the back of Mika’s hand, the only skin he dares to touch. “And so do you. I plucked you out of that charnel house so you could be a great wizard, you know. You weren’t meant to be shuttled around on battlefields, used up at some Lord’s whim. You are _art_.”

 

Mika flushes at that, and he hides his face into Shu’s chest. “I dunno ‘bout that,” he softly says. “It’s…it’s not like I hate the way my magic is or anythin’. I mean, I’m real glad you became my master, don’t get me wrong, I jus’…I dunno what else I’m good for, ‘cept killin’ things, or bein’ a weapon. I can’t do magic the same, pretty-perfect way you do.”

 

“And I’d probably kill you if you tried,” Shu says flatly. “Why would I want an apprentice who did the same thing that I did? I’d never stop feeling like I wanted to crush you. As it is, I want you to take over the world, if that’s what you want.”

 

“I mean…I think I could make the world explode ’n stuff, but that’s a little different.”

 

“Yes. It is. I’d prefer if you don’t make anything as large as the world explode, especially before I reunite with my Lord.”

 

“I ain’t gonna explode nothin’ unless _kara_ wants me to,” Mika hums, rubbing his cheek against Shu’s chest. “Or unless someone’s mean to you. I’ll kill ‘em. Then bring ‘em back to life and make ‘em do everythin’ I say, ‘cause that’s all they deserve. See, between me and Rei, ain’t no one gonna bother you again.”

 

Shu moves swiftly, clapping his hand over Mika’s mouth. “Do you think I avoid saying his name because the sound displeases me?” he hisses, eyes so wide the whites are visible all around each disc of violet. “Never, _never_ forget that people could be listening, and certain things _draw eyes and ears_.”

 

Mika pouts against Shu’s hand. “Sooorry,” he mumbles, and absently licks Shu’s hand. “I dunno how t’call him otherwise, maybe I should give him a name in sand tongue or somethin’…”

 

“Names work as invocations,” Shu says softly. “No matter what name you give him. That’s why I refer to him as I do. Just call him...‘your friend from the Northeast.’”

 

“Too many words,” Mika complains moodily. “He’s jus’ an old man. I’m gonna call him that, he’s your old man friend.”

 

“He’ll hate that. I love it.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Before you think I’m scolding you,” Keito declares, striding into Mao’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him, “understand that I’m blaming myself for your shortcomings. I realized last night that I’ve unintentionally left gaps in your education that need to be addressed, so get your notebooks.”

 

 _Last night._ Mao pauses, trying to parse through what Keito could have possibly found out about the night before, even as he does as he’s told and reaches for his paper and quill. _Wasn’t I thorough enough? I’ve delivered missives like that before, there’s nothing he could have sensed._ “Of course, sir,” he neutrally says instead. “But, ah, can you tell me what it is I’ve fallen short in first?”

 

Keito sighs. “You didn’t sense anything at all? Damn, I thought you’d advanced to at least the third level of ascension by now. If I’m wrong about that, I’ll need to strip you of your provisional titles and take you back to training.”

 

“My apologies, but I was busy handling an incident with the Nightcloak Shu and his, ah, attachment—you know how all-encompassing dealing with those two can be when they’re in a mood, it’s been such a relief that they’ve been contracted away from here, hasn’t it?” Mao says with a weary laugh. _Last night, last night—_ his mind races, thinking of what Keito could possibly be referring to, and just based on what he has to tackle _today_ , Mao takes a wild guess and a hell of a chance. “I…was it perhaps the magic of a half-blood? I’m not entirely accustomed to dealing with such things, but I thought I felt such a thing, but being unsure and distracted, I felt mentioning it was amiss…”

 

Keito exhales in relief. “Good, good. I wasn’t looking forward to six months of re-education in the wilds. Still, we need to practice. It was quite visible last night, if you know how to look, so we’ll practice with one of the half-blood criminals in the prison. I don’t like this way of doing it, but obviously you need more practice.”

 

Mao tries not to breath his own, identical sigh of relief. Fortunately, he’s gotten _very_ good at reading what Keito wants to hear over the years, but right now…well, it’s not like he can tell Keito he doesn’t have _time_ to go and practice on half-blood criminals when he already can, simply put, sense a half-blood better than anyone else in the damned Academy. “There’s a huge event in the capital today, though,” he mildly points out. “If there’s half-blood activity about, I’d rather learn hands on, and I still have the scent from last night—so if the half-blood is there, I bet I can find them.”

 

“Oh, my apologies.” Keito’s eyes flash, though his voice is carefully neutral, almost comically so. “I forgot, _you_ are the teacher, and I the student. Amusing, how I thought my twenty-five years of experience could possibly lend itself towards your education. Clearly, we should do as you say. Go on, teach me something. I’m sure I have much to learn. Here, give me your notebook, so I can take notes on your wisdom.”

 

“Ahh…I don’t mean it like that, sir, you know I don’t,” Mao protests, and he turns towards Keito, hands clasped together. “I _know_ you’re far more experienced than I’ll ever be, but I just learn better in the field, that’s how it’s always been, you know that! Not to mention…” Mao bites his lip, glancing away. It’s a feint he doesn’t use often—playing Keito too hard or too much simply doesn’t work, but if he pushes _just_ right, sometimes… “Ah…no, never mind, you’re right. It’s not important, I suppose, I’ll do as you say.”

 

Keito’s eyes narrow. He folds his arms over his chest, skeptical. “You have one chance to impress me with what you’re about to say,” he warns. “I already have a headache from dealing with Eichi all morning, so make it good.” And damn him for being so weak to Mao’s stressed, guileless face.

 

“I just…ahh…I feel bad practicing anything on captives, even if they’re criminals.” That’s mostly true, but more than anything, with some of them being from the Shadowlands, their constant leering at him for having Rei’s scent all over him is…troublesome. “I know that’s probably silly, but the other excuse I have is worse,” Mao admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “A friend of mine I met in the West is going to be at the tournament today, and I never get a chance to see him. I was hoping to be able to go for both that _and_ work, but I understand if you need me here. So—I’ll just reschedule. I don’t want you to have to deal with everything by yourself.”

 

Keito sighs, rubbing his temples. “Tell me about this friend. I want to make sure he’s someone you should be associating with. I’m responsible for your welfare, why haven’t I heard about him?”

 

“You’ve heard of him! I went to his wife’s funeral some time ago, remember? It’s the same friend,” Mao presses, taking a step closer to more pointedly direct a large-eyed stare up at Keito. “He’s a lord from the West. A good man, but very lonely these days, which is why I wanted to see him—he’s in town visiting with the Suou family for a trade deal. See, all good names, I promise.”

 

Keito’s temples thud, and he rubs them, lifting the arms of his spectacles off for a moment. “Very well. I’ll make you a deal. We’ll go to the festival and skip the prison, on the condition that you can prove to me that you can sniff out half-blood magic in a crowd. And then, _yes_ , you can go drink with your friend...Ritsu, was it? But if you mess up, you’re missing evening meal for five days and practicing in the prison until I’m satisfied.”

 

“Deal.” It’s not _exactly_ the deal he wanted, but backing out now will make Keito more annoyed, more suspicious, and Mao can figure this out. If he can’t, he’d be a piss-poor spy and enhanced, now wouldn’t he? “It’ll be fun—sometimes it’s good to combine work with pleasure, don’t you think, sir?” he teases. “If you’re not careful, all of your hair’s going to turn grey from the stress, and you’re too young for that.”

 

A pang of longing tugs at Keito’s heart. It’s too easy to remember Rei, before that blasted bond had formed and his heart had locked onto someone else, someone that wasn’t him, without a backwards glance. He’d forced himself to watch what Eichi had done, feeling that somehow, it would help him atone. The years since haven’t helped that feeling fade much, and that had been the last time he’d heard anyone flirt like that, teasing him, offering to mix business with pleasure. His face falls, mouth pursing as his eyes tighten at the edges in pain. “It’s your own pleasure we’re doing this for, not mine. Don’t make a fool of me.”

 

“Have I _ever_ made a fool out of you? I’m not like His Excellency Himemiya, I’m the good one, heh.” Eichi isn’t here, so he can say that without fear of reprimand. Mao turns away to shuck the long, white cloak of the Academy over the back of his chair, and instead, snatches up the emerald green cloak he uses for traveling. “We’re going to go and we’re going to _enjoy_ ourselves,” he hums, reaching over to unfasten Keito’s cloak and the official badge of the Emperor’s aides from his chest in kind. “And if we look like we came straight from the Academy, no one’s going to want to be near us, never mind how fast word’ll travel to whatever half-blood is floating around. See? Work and pleasure, it’s good for you once in awhile.”

 

Much to Keito’s surprise, his headache lessens slightly. His mouth curls in a wry half-smile, and he nods, defeated. “Fine. I’ll have fun. But I won’t enjoy it.”

 

Which is how, two hours later, Mao leaves Keito quibbling with the director of games and gambling regarding his own inevitable investment in the archery tournament, and slips away to the Suou family’s private box.

 

A mix of stress and irritation makes him nearly snatch Ritsu clear out of his seat when he sees just the back of his head. Even amidst the throngs of people, the magical trail from the night prior is still there—vague, thin and broken in places, but to Mao, someone _so_ used to the strange magic of half-bloods, it’s obvious and plainly in sight. He sucks in a breath as he strides forward, draping an arm around Ritsu’s shoulders from behind as he leans forward, close to Ritsu’s ear. “Hi.” The greeting is ground out, a little sharper than he’d usually be. “Pick a person you don’t like and redirect your magical trail there,” he lowly orders. “You have maybe ten minutes before Keito comes to his senses and stops having fun.”

 

A smile spreads instantly over Ritsu’s face, and he tugs Mao onto his lap, nuzzling into his neck. “Ya~ay, you’re here! Mm, c’mere, my favorite snack, I’ll just have a _little_ taste--”

 

Mao squawks, immediately pushing a hand into Ritsu’s face and trying to climb out of his lap. “ _Listen to me_ , Ritsu! I’m not playing around,” he hisses, and quickly does a double-take at the company Ritsu is keeping before he groans. “ _You_ again. Why am I not surprised?”

 

Tsukasa blinks as he follows Mao’s stare, and looks over to Arashi, eyebrows raising. “Ah…you two have already met?”

 

“Yes, _unfortunately_. Ritsu, let me go, I’m absolutely blaming you for everything.”

 

Arashi looks over at Ritsu and Mao, frowning. “I thought you said no one was watching or tracking you,” he says lowly.

 

Ritsu turns Mao around, then yanks him down onto his lap with strength like iron. “He’s not my Watcher,” he hums. “He’s my friend. And favorite snack. And fine, fine, how’s this?”

 

The trace of Ritsu’s magic vanishes suddenly, reappearing a moment later around an old man with one eye, hands currently wandering towards an unsuspecting young woman’s thighs.

 

Mao’s lips purse, but it _is_ exactly what he told Ritsu to do, so—“Fine,” he crossly says, still looking decidedly ruffled and put out all the same. “That’ll do. You were sloppy last night, what on earth were you doing? Do not try and bite me right now,” he quickly warns, placing a finger against Ritsu’s lips before he tries again. “We’re in public. I can also tell you’ve fed, stop it.”

 

Tsukasa scoots closer to Arashi. “He’s a Watcher, but he’s working against the Academy,” he lowly says. “God knows for who, but that’s not important right now—the _important_ thing is that he makes it a lot easier to work around whatever the Academy is doing with the crown.”

 

At that, Arashi perks up a little. Looking over at Mao, attempting to evade Ritsu’s teasing, pinching fingers, he whispers, “Maybe I could use that. For me and Mika, it’s so hard not to touch him...”

 

“You could…maybe…ask,” Tsukasa carefully whispers back. “But he’s not usually in support of that sort of thing. He’s not just a watcher, he’s a transporter—meaning he helps relocate wizards to their assignments, so he’s one of the ones closest to them at all times. I’m not sure he’d endanger that post of his, but…of course you can ask?”

 

Arashi hesitates. He nearly does, but it’s too easy to remember Mao’s urgent warning-- _Your stableboy could be a Watcher._ “Even if I somehow did convince him,” he says softly, “Mika would just take that as permission to misbehave. And he’s far from the only Watcher, and not usually around us. It’s too dangerous.”

 

“If you’re very serious about it, you could always schedule it,” Tsukasa mildly suggests. “But that sort of takes the romance out of it, if you ask me.”

 

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, stop that right now,” Mao warns, clawing himself out of Ritsu’s clutches, no matter his intense, bone-crushing clinging. “You at least should know better, Milord.”

 

“Me?” Tsukasa echoes, affronted. “I’ve never touched a wizard in my life.” He pauses, and looks at Ritsu, catching onto the falsehood quickly. “This doesn’t count, he’s—well.“

 

“You _know_ , just because I’m very good at silencing and blocking doesn’t mean you can continue to run your mouths,” Mao hums irritably. “You’re making my life _so_ difficult—”

 

Tsukasa’s attention is sharply and abruptly diverted, and he grabs Arashi by the arm to haul him forward, close to the wooden railing. “Look, look— _that’s_ the prince—isn’t he just… _ugh_ , he makes me so angry, he never remembers my name, why is he _like_ that when he _looks_ like that!”

 

Mao slumps back with a sigh, shutting his eyes. _Maybe I should go back to gambling with Keito._

 

“He~ey,” Ritsu whines, poking Mao’s ribs. “Isn’t that your boring spectacles guy? He’s not wearing his robes...wow, his arms are _really_ skinny, huh?”

 

The tall man is apparently engaged in a spirited talk with a short, slender redhead, holding a longbow taller than he is. The redhead then turns his back, peering around until he sees another man, a stunning beauty with silver hair, lounging in the shade. “That’s the prince?” Arashi asks skeptically. “He looks like he’s twenty pounds of energy in a ten pound body.”

 

“Ideal,” Tsukasa says without batting an eye, though he’s still scowling. “But _so_ annoying, I just want to—“

 

“Yes, I made him change so he’d look like a normal human for a change,” Mao says with a roll of his eyes, swatting Ritsu’s hand away half-heartedly and patting his head instead to placate him. “And yes, his arms are very skinny. It’s sort of endearing.”

 

“—grab him by the neck and _shake him._ That’s not treason, don’t quote me,” Tsukasa hastily adds, then huffs as the prince bounds his way back to the silver-haired teenager, grabbing at his hands. Tsukasa sighs heavily. “You’ll also see him around,” he says with a flutter of a hand. “That’s Lord Izumi of the Sena house, or as most of the court calls him behind his back, the Prince in the North. He and Prince Leo are attached at the hip.”

 

“Oh, he’s _lovely_ ,” Arashi sighs, leaning back in his chair. “They both are, honestly. Mm, my further opinions will follow later when we’re in private. Look forward to an evaluation.”

 

Ritsu subsides under the patting, hands folding politely in his lap at last. “The sun is real bright,” he mutters, butting his head gently against Mao’s hand. “Gimme an umbrella.”

 

“They should kiss,” Tsukasa bluntly mutters underneath his breath. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

 

Mao ruffles Ritsu’s hair fondly, and unclasps his own cloak to drape it over Ritsu’s head, tucking it around him. “No umbrella right now, but this should do, hmm? I’ll go see what I can scrounge up. You’ll behave, won’t you?”

 

“I,” Ritsu says very seriously, huddling into the cloak, “will sleep.”

 

“Oi,” Arashi butts in, waving his fingers. “Looks like your boss is trying to get your attention.”

 

He waves at Keito, standing and squinting at the stands, one foot tapping against the ground.

 

“Right, I’ll be back later, maybe,” Mao exhales, patting Ritsu’s head once more and offering a brisk bow to both Arashi and Tsukasa. “Have a nice day, Lord Tsukasa, Lord Arashi.”

 

He takes off back down the stairs, circling around the front of the stands and doing a remarkable job of looking somewhat ruffled (especially after Ritsu’s molestations). “Sir,” he breathes, grabbing for Keito’s arm. “I found him, there’s a magical trail that directly leads to the half-blood. Also…” He hesitates, licking his lips nervously. His gaze discretely flickers to the side—following the prince, briefly—before he glances away again. “There’s another thing, but I think that needs to be handled more delicately.”

 

Keito gives Mao a tight little smile. “You’re going to make fun of me, but I was just looking to see where you were because my turn is up next. We’ll deal with your instruction in a moment. If you...I mean, you don’t have to watch. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“You…you’re actually going to compete this time?” Mao blinks a few times, then beams, clasping both of Keito’s hands in his own. “Ahh, good, good! Of course I’m going to watch! Good luck, I hope you crush the prince, he’s _always_ the favorite.”

 

Twin spots of color suddenly appear in Keito’s cheeks. He fights down a little smile, clearing his throat as he turns away. “Yes, well. Choose a spot in the stands, then. Make sure you have a good view, I’m going to crush that impudent little gremlin. Ah, I mean, his royal and most respected Highness.”

 

“You better,” Mao matter-of-factly says, releasing Keito’s hands with a last squeeze as he turns away. “I’ll be cheering for you, sir, I know your skill with a bow is unmatched.”

 

Keito squeezes his own bow more tightly than he intends, embarrassed at Mao’s wholehearted support. “Get into the stands,” he mutters, though he stands straighter, thin chest puffing out slightly.

 

A herald strikes his bell, summoning him to the aiming line. His turn is a thing of little fanfare; most of the people in the stands are just waiting to watch the prince shoot. Keito spares the stands a single look, seeing most of the eyes turned away--all but his foolish, redheaded apprentice, who for whatever reason, looks excited to watch his teacher shoot a bow in front of an audience.

 

“Idiot,” he mutters under his breath, and pulls the drawstring back to his ear, stilling his breath. He breathes in deeply, letting his heartbeat slow, and lets fly. The arrow’s head strikes just left of the target’s center, and he nods in satisfaction. Of his three shots, only the final one strikes dead center, but it’s such a clean hit that he can’t help but be proud of himself.

 

He turns, bowing to the tourney judge, then bowing to the king in his box before striding to the readying circle, stripping off his gloves.

 

Mao, for his part, is already out of the stands, all but leaping down the stairs to meet Keito with a smile. “You’re amazing, sir! I’d like to see the prince beat that, even as talented as he is, there’s no match for your skill. Ahaha, this is why I never try to run away from you, I’m certain you’ll just shoot me down if I try~…”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Keito feels himself flush with the praise, and allows his mouth to quirk, a cocky little smile playing there. “I wouldn’t shoot you. You aren’t Eichi. Hmm, and even if he is a decent archer, I doubt even the prince--”

 

“Perfect shot!” the tourney judge calls, and Keito whips his head around, watching Prince Leo pull another arrow casually, uncaringly from his quiver. The Prince turns to wave to someone in the stands, and barely pauses to aim before he shoots again, burrowing the head in less than a centimeter apart from the first one. The third, released less than a second later, splits the first arrow cleanly down the shaft.

 

Keito visibly deflates, face contorting in a scowl. “I’m going to have a drink,” he grumbles. He moves to unstring his bow, but his arm muscles strain, annoyed with him, and it takes two tries.

 

Mao heaves a sigh, shaking his head as he turns away from the scene. “Well, some people just aren’t normal,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Here, sir, I’ll carry all of that for you. You solidly made second place, you know, that’s really impressive! Gods know I can’t shoot worth a damn.”

 

“Stop licking my boots, they’re plenty clean,” Keito says with a huff, but Mao’s protestations do soften the blow a bit. He shoves all of his gear into the young man’s arms, feeling his shoulders starting to throb. “It’s my own fault, I’ve been neglecting practice. I’ll start my efforts again. And you, you should start your music again, it’s good discipline for the mind.”

 

Mao slings what he can over his shoulder, and balances the rest without complaint. “I dunno, sir, your boots have gotten a bit dusty in this dry weather,” he wryly quips back. “I don’t have the time for music, and that’s fine. Ah, I still have a trace on the half-blood, did you want me to summon a catcher, or…”

 

He stumbles from a brisk push from behind, and sharply suppresses the shudder that rakes down his spine when every sense in his body starts tingling in warning. _Speaking of half-bloods_. “Ah, sorry,” Izumi of the Sena house dismissively says, already striding away without looking back at him. “Get out of the way, though. Nice job, Milord! You’ve got half a dozen girls wanting to give you flowers, I’ll help you pick the prettiest one!”

 

“Some nobles are just so rude,” Mao mutters, huffing out a breath as he quickly steps after Keito again. “Or it is most nobles…ugh, the capital’s so stressful.”

 

“Where’s Ruka?” Keito hears, as the prince attempts to climb his apparent companion. “I want to give her all the flowers that the others give me! Wahaha!”

 

“I want to go back to the Academy,” Keito says dryly. “Just...point out the half-blood so I know you’re paying attention. Mark him for later, then we’ll make a tracking test out of it in a few days. Unless you think he’s immediately dangerous?”

 

“The Academy’s no good either, because that Nightcloak is there right now and in a foul mood because the necromancer is in a foul mood,” Mao wearily says. “I can’t wait until they leave with Captain Arashi. And no, sir, I don’t think he’s immediately dangerous. He’s old and hobbling, I think he’s mostly interested in feeling up girls…”

 

“It’s an absolute travesty that we’re playing host to a necromancer in an area so full of people, live people,” Keito mutters. “When I was young, in the old king’s time, necromancers were put in a bear cart and sent up to the Shadowlands.”

 

“I’m sure they were much less tame…” Mao carefully hedges. “Mika is well-behaved, you know, in the skittish feral cat sort of way. His worst behavior is just being moody from time to time. It’s Shu that I find much more difficult to deal with, honestly…”

 

“I try not to dislike anyone just because they dislike me,” Keito says wearily, “but for Shu, I will make an exception. He’s quite rude, and not nearly as talented as he thinks he is.” He pauses, then adds, “I mean, obviously, he’s more magically talented than I am, but what is that to boast about?”

 

 _Oh, goodness, you’re very wrong about his talent, sir_ , Mao thinks nervously, but he smiles all the same, shrugging a bit. “He certainly is quite arrogant, isn’t he? Again, it’s much more pleasant when they’re out with that captain. Did you know he’s only fifteen? He looks like he’s at least nineteen, twenty, something like that, I could hardly believe it.”

 

“Fifteen?” Keito asks, startled. He turns his head, but the Captain isn’t easy to see at the moment, so he gives it up, walking briskly for a few steps, then fading back to a more sedate pace as his knee starts twinging. “I swear, I’m getting worse and worse at telling what age people are. How old are _you_ now?”

 

“T…twenty three, sir,” Mao manages with a little laugh, shaking his hair out of his face. “Old enough to buy you several drinks with my decent-enough salary, if you like.”

 

“...I suppose that somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that,” Keito mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his spectacles. “My god. You’re like, a real man, aren’t you?”

 

Now that he looks, he’s surprised to see that when he wasn’t looking, Mao had indeed filled out quite a bit. His jawline is stronger, cheeks better defined, shoulders broader, the awkward lines of his body settling into a mature strength that Keito hadn’t really noticed.

 

His frown deepens, and he shakes his head. “Did I forget your birthday this year? I swear I can’t remember twenty-three, so you see, my own age is showing.”

 

Mao’s lips twitch into a wry smile. “I don’t really mind, birthdays aren’t important.” They frustrate him, and remind him that he’s working for the Academy that he hates so much, and so it’s better not to be reminded that he’s another year older, another year bowing to the Emperor. “I think most of the grey in your hair is from stress, sir, not your age.”

 

“Remind me to teach you how to lick boots properly,” Keito says dryly. “The proper way would be to tell me that it was just a trick of the light in my shaving mirror, and my hair is as dark as it’s ever been.”

 

“But honesty is the best policy, and I think you look very distinguished with grey hair,” Mao says without skipping a beat. “It’s that sort of handsome-sexy that people talk about professors and scholars having, you know?”

 

Keito snorts. “Yes, yes, I’ve been a starry-eyed lad that thought my professors were the most distinguished creatures I’d ever seen. A word to the wise, they’re rarely good in bed. You’d do better with someone who cares deeply about you.”

 

“The assumption I have any time at all for romance, sir, is hilarious,” Mao cheerfully replies. “But for the record, I’ve heard all the rumors about your exploits, and it’s hard to believe you’re anything but capable.”

 

“I--rumors?” Keito flushes suddenly, and gives Mao a sidelong glance. As usual, it’s difficult to tell when the boy is being charmingly guileless, and when he’s making a careful, gentle mockery of his teacher. “Seriously? There are few enough substances behind anything you’ve heard, unless--I mean, what have--it’s absurd to think that anyone would even _care_ about that sort of thing.”

 

“Hmm? Oh, everyone at the Academy loves to talk, you know that. Don’t worry, I don’t spread any rumors, everyone just likes to come to me to gossip, though I wonder why. With how much you talk about me licking your boots, though—that gives some credence to the gossip, I have to admit…”

 

Keito’s eyes narrow. “Wait. I thought the gossip was about who I’d tumbled, not about....my boots? I--”

 

His eyes widen suddenly, and he leans in, hissing, “If this is about last Midwinter, the feet were _his_ idea, I’d just planned on a massage, he’s a filthy liar if he says anything else--”

 

Mao blinks back at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I see. That’s a rumor that I don’t exactly remember, but thanks for clarifying all the same.”

 

“I knew it, you _are_ playing with me,” Keito mutters, flicking Mao in the forehead. “I knew no one cared anymore, that’s all a long time ago.”

 

Mao offers up an easy smile, unfazed by the familiar flick to his head. “I was referring to the rumors about you and sex wizards, before that was all illegal,” he brightly says, “but some of it just sounded s~o farfetched…heh, guess I’ll never know, huh?”

 

“You’re an incorrigible brat,” Keito huffs, starting up the hill towards the Academy, feeling his lungs start to tighten. “Just ask, you clearly want to.”

 

“ _Did_ you have a torrid love affair with sex wizards?” Mao pauses, and catches Keito by the arm to still him. “Here,” he says, pushing the armful of equipment into Keito’s arms as he better shrugs the rest onto one shoulder, and abruptly bends to scoop Keito up and off of his feet into a rather neat princess carry. “Your knee was bothering you earlier,” he lightly says, starting back up the hill. Keito is _not_ heavy, just sort of long, but he’s nothing compared to Ritsu’s usual deadweight. “So let’s not strain it more than necessary.”

 

“Put me down!” Keito snaps, nearly kicking Mao in the face as he squirms out of his arms, getting his feet firmly on the ground again. “I’m neither your lady nor an invalid, _yet_. I’m not that old, dammit!”

 

He straightens his robes, sniffing. “And it wasn’t sex _wizards_. Just one.”

 

Mao rolls his eyes before he can stop himself, holding up his hands. “All right, sir, if that’s what you prefer,” he says. “I was going to put you down before we reached the Academy proper and give you a chance to tell me all of your stories about Rei unhindered, but all right.”

 

“I’m not _hindered_ ,” Keito growls. “I’m just not...I’ve been focused on things other than calisthenics lately, is all. Do you want to hear stories, or not?”

 

“By all means, sir, tell away.” _As if I haven’t heard them before, regularly, whenever Rei is feeling obnoxiously lonely._ “If your knee starts bothering you again, let me know.”

 

“I most certainly will not, if your reaction is to carry me like a maiden,” Keito scoffs. “And I’m not telling to hear myself talk, you can ask if there’s something you want to know about. I...” A thought occurs to him, and he flushes slightly. “If you’re curious, I do have a few sketches in my rooms for illustrations.”

 

“…The High Magistrate Keito sharing his own erotic artwork with me…how lewd.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind, you get no stories and you don’t get to see my room, ungrateful wretch.”

 

“That’s not fair, I’m just teasing you!” Mao protests, rearranging all of Keito’s equipment in his arms. Best not to mention how many times he’s absolutely been in Keito’s private quarters in the Academy without Keito knowing. “Is it true that you and Rei were…you know… _lovers?_ In the actual sense, not in the sex wizard sense where they can’t help it.”

 

Keito’s lips purse, but he’s weak to Mao’s pleading tone. “Fine, fine, you may see a _few_. And...well. For what it’s worth.”

 

Suddenly a bit self-conscious, Keito looks away, up towards the Academy. “I thought of it like that,” he says, voice soft. “I thought he did, too. But in the end, I’ll never know what his true feelings were.”

 

“Do you believe in resonant bonds?” It’s a question to avoid asking within the Academy itself, considering it can spark either a fiery debate amongst any number of wizards, or encourage Eichi’s outright insistence of their existence (and the ability to create them). “Because…if you do…well, maybe that explains a few things, don’t you think?”

 

“I do. And it does. But...well. That won’t make it any easier if you ever develop feelings for a wizard,” Keito warns quietly, “and they develop a bond with someone else. They exist, though I do believe that many people simply trick themselves into believing that they have one and acting accordingly. But I don’t accept the nonsense about being unable to stop yourself from certain behaviors just because you have a resonant bond.”

 

“I can’t imagine developing feelings for a wizard, sir, not after the amount of time I spend with them and see all of their underlying issues,” Mao hastily says. “Especially with resonant bonds. Ah…take Shu, for example; I think he handles his situation quite well, all things considered, so I agree, certain behaviors shouldn’t be simply accepted because of a bond’s existence. Though I suppose it manifests differently amongst different pairs…for example, I dread the day, if it ever comes, when Mika has that sort of attachment—when he doesn’t want to do something, he bites, and I _really_ don’t like the idea of having to remove him from a bonded’s presence.”

 

“I’m just saying. Bear cart, Shadowlands,” Keito says darkly. They finally crest the hill, and he wrenches the door to the tower open, leading Mao up the stairs to his study. His own room is at the back, a small, unassuming door connecting the two rooms. He unlocks it both with silver key and a muttered spell, letting both of them inside.

 

“It isn’t much, but we’re not supposed to have much,” he says, looking around at the rather barren room. A cot-style bed, a brazier against the cold, a basin for washing, a wardrobe for his robes, and a desk for writing and drawing is all the furniture he owns. “Have a seat, bed or floor. Sorry it’s boring in here.” At least he’d made the bed this morning.

 

 _Yep, hasn’t changed since the last time I snuck in here to pull out a page from your scheduling._ Mao carefully deposits all of Keito’s archery equipment into a corner before he drops down neatly onto the edge of Keito’s bed. “Sometimes I forget how little time we actually spent up North, and how quickly you ushered me down to the Academy proper—you were awfully keen on having an apprentice, no matter how much you complained to Rei about it, huh?”

 

The little smile is back, but it’s less satirical this time, more warm. “I’ve always...not minded children,” Keito admits. “He was always good at exploiting my weaknesses and soft spots. And it did help that he brought me a sharp-minded, talented, good-hearted child.”

 

“Not an ungrateful wretch?” Mao lightly teases in return, folding his hands into his lap. He might tease, but the words do make guilt stab briefly into his heart, making him glance away. Sometimes, it’s very easy to be irritated with Rei, and now is one of those times. “I don’t think I’m all of those things, sir, but thank you all the same. I just try to do my job and make yours easier.”

 

“Don’t pick up my habit of self-deprecation,” Keito warns. “It won’t make you happy in life. You can feel proud of the things you’ve done. I’m proud of you. Ah, here.”

 

He unearths a battered old sketchbook, and rifles quickly through it before handing it over. His palms are damp, face too hot. “There isn’t anything terribly inappropriate in there, so you can look through. There--wait, there might be some naked women towards the end.”

 

“Is it self-deprecation or modesty?” Mao archly replies, taking the sketchbook with a wry smile. “Thank you, though. I’m glad you’re proud, I just…ah, never mind, it’s not important.”

 

He flips open the sketchbook and sighs immediately. “Why did you come to work for the Academy when you have talent like this? Not that working here isn’t rewarding, but…”

 

“...Do you want the official story? Or the real story?”

 

“Both would be good so I can better lie to new recruits and threaten them about how terrifying you are, I suppose.”

 

“Heh. Always good to frighten them.”

 

Keito leans back against his desk, and lets his eyes flick out the window. “My family has always been priests. I was training to take over the temple when I met Eichi. There are...things you don’t know about him, of course. He used to be quite ill. When we met, the finest physicians in all the land couldn’t do anything for him, and they were quite convinced he was on his way to the other side of the black river. I was...oh, no older than you were when I first apprenticed you. We hit it off, and he asked me to consider coming to work for him. I didn’t just then, but eventually gave in, if only to keep him from overextending himself.”

 

 _Unfortunately, I know far too much about him,_ Mao wearily thinks, and he slowly flops to the side, making himself comfortable on Keito’s bed. “That sounds like you. The Emperor is awfully fond of you.”

 

“I’d appreciate it if that supposed fondness manifested in not making my life difficult,” Keito says dryly. “Rei...I met him...much later.”

 

He looks down at his hands, surprised with himself. “I’ve never told anyone about this,” he says softly, realizing it as he speaks.

 

“You don’t have to,” Mao quietly says, his eyes lidding as he flips slowly through Keito’s sketchbook. The drawings of Eichi are one thing, but the ones of Rei quickly become more and more numerous, and, well—telling of Keito’s interest. “But, mm, it’s not like I’ll go about repeating it.”

 

“It isn’t like it’s a great secret,” Keito says with a shrug, although it is. Maybe if he can act casual about it, Mao won’t think it’s such a big deal. “When I was fifteen, I was training to be a Watcher, but I...well, I hated it. I thought it was a waste of time, not to mention an obnoxious career. I had it in my head that I might leave the Academy completely and be a scribe, or even an artist--foolish, I know, you don’t need to tell me. Eichi told me to watch out for Rei, though, and...”

 

He shrugs helplessly. “I was intrigued. Wary, of course, but there was something...different, about him. But I was careful. And in him, I saw...ah, it doesn’t matter. But I suppose I could say...I never understood what magic was supposed to be used for, before I met him, or how it could and _should_ change the world. I suppose that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s how I felt at the time.”

 

“Sounds like the sort of thing the Emperor would have your head for these days,” Mao softly points out, pausing on a full page illustration of Rei sprawled across a bed much like this one, during one of his long hair phases, apparently. Mao’s lips purse, and he turns the page, uninterested in seeing his master look _pleased_ with himself. “The magic he has is very different. It’s still true that no wizard has ever bloomed like him, so I think what you’re saying makes sense even just on that alone.”

 

“It’s not about that.” The words are a little sad, and Keito shakes his head at himself. “It’s about the way he wants to use it. I bought in to the myth, I’ll be honest. I let him bend my ear with his grand ideas, the way foolish young men will, sometimes. But...well. I’ve made my choices, I suppose, and it’s too late for talk like that. Anyway, I let him convince me that...how to put this...”

 

He steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, thinking. “I told him about the parts of the Academy that made me want to leave. He convinced me that it would be better to be a part of it, even if I didn’t agree with all of their policies, because I could improve it by being there. Nonsense, of course, there’s little or nothing I could do. Well, except train you. I don’t doubt that training you has been the most effective thing I’ve done, for the future.”

 

“Ahh…while I’m flattered, sir, I’m not really sure I’m the most effective thing…” Mao carefully replies, glancing back over to Keito for a moment. “I just try to do my job, and I don’t think that’s particularly special. There’s some things I disagree with as well, of course, but…as you said, there’s not much we can do to change it, if the Emperor wills it.”

 

Keito shrugs one shoulder. “Call me sentimental,” he says, waving a hand. “But I think that your heart--bringing something like that into this space, with your good soul, that’s the best thing I can do to change things right now. Ah, keep turning, there are some of you in there, if you care.”

 

“I mean, I try to be as kind as I can to the wizards under my care, so I suppose that counts for something,” Mao mutters, flipping past half a dozen more doodles of Rei (that’s _enough_ of him, thanks) before landing on the next couple of pages which are, apparently, nothing but him. He blinks, tilting his head. “Huh. You must really think I’m cute, sir. I don’t think I’m that cute.”

 

“Children are cute,” Keito says with a frown. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

 

“Uh huh. I’m definitely older here, though,” Mao says, holding up the sketchbook, “so you must still think I’m cute.”

 

Silently, Keito grabs a piece of paper off the desk, crumples it into a ball, and throws it at Mao’s face.

 

Mao lifts the sketchbook, and the paper bounces weakly off of the back of it. “Violence is never the answer, sir. Wow, you’re good at drawing women, too.”

 

“Mm, thank you. I quite like the look of women,” Keito admits. He folds his hands, then asks, “Have you ever been with one? You’re twenty-three, I assume you must have by now.”

 

“A couple of times, when I was dragged out with Lord Ritsu and his friends and it was sort of…compulsory,” Mao wryly says, shutting the sketchbook. “But I’ve decided I’m too busy for courting and prostitutes alike. Women, especially older women, like to touch me at inopportune times and that’s stressful.”

 

“A word of advice. Women aren’t worth it.”

 

“…Noted. I could have figured that out, though, when all they’re interested in doing is grabbing my arse.”

 

“I do believe that the more magic flows through our veins, the less we find intriguing about their curves,” Keito speculates. “I could be wrong, of course, but between that and the natural sterility of wizards, it does seem as though we’re bred to avoid the fairer sex. They’re lovely to draw, though. I used to sketch them making love together whenever Eichi was ill, he does enjoy seeing that.”

 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised at all,” Mao wryly says, shaking his head as he sits up, pushing his hair out of his face. “If I’m being honest, I feel like I’m becoming as invested in celibacy as the wizards are as time goes on…it’s probably the overwork talking, heh. Men are fine to look at, but when you’re spending all of your time around men that aren’t allowed to really interact with you in that sort of fashion, I feel like something sort of shuts down.”

 

Keito’s smile is grim. “Well. We both know that public opinions on the Emperor’s ban are not welcomed. Even in private, even those as highly-ranked as we should be careful about commentary.”

 

“No commentary here~ just a remark about my own lack of interest as a result~” Mao hums, though his mind drifts distractedly to Ritsu’s grabbing hands, frustratingly soft lips whenever they press to his neck, and the sharpness of those teeth. _No, no, no, absolutely not._ Rei had been terrifyingly firm about how he felt about that sort of involvement with Ritsu. On the other side of the spectrum, _women_ —stressful and more aggressive than even Ritsu and typically reeking in perfume that gives him headaches—or other men (older men)—

 

No, he needs to stop right there. “Anyway,” Mao exhales, re-pinning his hair back from his face. “Workaholics anonymous here—we can go and do our rounds together, if you like.”

 

Some of the stress lines that had faded from Keito’s face reappear, but less deeply than before. “Sounds like a plan. Come on, then, I’ll treat you to a sweet tea at the base shop when we’re done.”

 

“Careful, sir. You’re going to really spoil me at this rate.”


	12. Chapter 12

Holding an enormous bag of gold, the size of his own head, had been delightful. It had been the first time Arashi had even _seen_ so much gold in one place, but even more fun than that had been spending it, finding sturdy armor and enormous bags of grain, finding sleek horses and well-oiled carts to transport all of his shiny new equipment. Seeing the looks of relief on his men’s face, though--that had been worth far more than the enormous bag of gold royals, though he does mourn slightly at the weight of the bag’s deflated feeling right now.

 

He finds his tent, which somehow feels like home after so long traveling, and tosses his bag into the corner. Then he blinks, looking at the pile of poorly-stitched plush toys taking over the real estate of his tent floor, and the small figure curled up on his bed.

 

Quietly, he pulls out flint and steel, striking a spark in the oil lamp in the corner before he kneels, touching messy black curls. “Mika, darling,” he whispers. “Are you allowed to be here right now?”

 

Stirring slowly, Mika’s eyes crack open, taking a moment to focus and dilate in the dim light. “This is where I told th’ transporter t’take me, and he left me, so it must be fine,” he dreamily sighs, stretching out. “Plus, I couldn’t leave my plushies alone, they’d be sad.” He pushes himself upright, throwing thin arms around Arashi’s neck. “Nnn, _kara…_ I missed you a _lot_.”

 

Guilt gnaws at Arashi’s chest. The last person in his arms hadn’t been Mika, but Tsukasa, and he’d walked out of that with a fat sack of gold, something that now makes him feel disconcertingly like a prostitute. “I have to tell you something,” he whispers, voice quavering a little.

 

“Mmn? Okay.” Mika draws back to blink up at him, his brow furrowing. “Y’look stressed,” he says. “Do I gotta hurt someone?”

 

“Maybe me?” Arashi says quietly, trying and failing for levity. “I...I did something...I made love to someone.” He twists his hands in his lap, stomach churning. “Someone else.”

 

Mika blinks back at him, his head tilting slowly. “O…kay,” he carefully replies, not entirely understanding why Arashi looks _so_ upset. “Um. Was it real bad or somethin’?”

 

“No! I mean, it’s bad _now_ , because I’m sad to have to tell you about it,” Arashi admits.

 

Mika pauses again, trying to wrap his mind around this entire concept, and admittedly failing. “Wait. Are you like…in love with him?”

 

“Absolutely not!” Arashi protests, scandalized. “I’m in love with _you_ , I’ve always been in love with you!”

 

“Then, um, why are you even mentionin’ it?” Mika asks, confusion making his head tilt, rather birdlike, to the other side. “ _Kara…_ men wanna put their dick in things. You can’t put it in me, so it ain’t like I expect y’to never fuck anyone else. But you should at least do it in front of me next time, so I can get off, too.”

 

Arashi sits back, stunned. “You...you don’t mind? I--I don’t love him, I don’t care about him, I was just weak, you’re the one I adore, you know that, right?”

 

“ _Kara._ ” Mika leans forward, clapping his hands to Arashi’s cheeks. “If you don’t love him, I _don’t_ care. Got it? You’re like, a soldier and stuff, it’d be _weird_ if you never went out and fucked anyone, isn’t that kinda what soldiers do? It’s all they do in the Sandlands, lemme tell you.”

 

“Seriously?” Arashi demands, mystified. “But......I’ve never...I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

 

“Eh? Really?” Mika blinks back at him. “You mean…you were a virgin? _Seriously?_ ”

 

“I mean...” _No_ , a dark part of his mind whispers, but he shoves that back under lock and key, where it belongs. “Yeah,” he lies, mentally reciting three names that will die by his blade one day.

 

Mika’s head cocks, studying Arashi’s face for a moment. _Lying, he’s lying_. It’s not worth mentioning—if Arashi doesn’t want to talk about it, it must be no good—so Mika just sighs, rocking back after poking Arashi’s nose with the tip of a freshly painted nail. “Well, now you ain’t. Seriously, I ain’t got a problem with y’goin’ out and havin’ fun, that’s what men do. Jus’ don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

 

Arashi grabs Mika’s face in turn now, all false emotions banished from his face, leaving nothing behind but deadly, cold truth. “You will _always_ be the first thing in my heart,” he whispers, with the air of an oath.

 

Mika’s breath hitches, and he feels himself shake, the intense _urge_ to lurch forward and grab Arashi and kiss him making it feel as if he’s being torn in two. He bites down onto his trembling lower lip, dropping his gaze. “You…y’can’t say things like that and expect me to behave,” he manages with a ragged laugh, reaching up to grab at Arashi’s wrists, clinging to them.

 

Arashi’s heart skips a beat, then another, and he forces Mika down to the bed again, then throws a blanket over him, including his head. “Sorry. Just...stay there for a moment, until I can...control myself, please.” After making love to someone else, it’s so much more _vivid_ in his mind, how he could bear Mika down, how it would feel to kiss and stroke and touch, how it would feel to be inside him.

 

A huffy little whimper escapes from underneath the blanket, and Mika kicks and squirms, the top of his head poking out, followed by his stare shortly after. “Now that you’ve done it, y’can tell me better how you’d do it to me,” he hopefully suggests, fidgeting a little. “‘Cause…now y’know what it feels like inside of someone, right?”

 

“Absolutely,” Arashi assures him, reaching up fondly to tousle his hair. “Now I can tell you all about how I’d grab your hips and pull you down, and how sweet it would feel when my fingertips sank into the skin...I mean, you’ve got a lot less, um, I mean, my fingers wouldn’t sink in as far--not that he’s _fat_ , but--”

 

“A squishy noble, then.” Mika’s head pokes out the rest of the way, butting against Arashi’s hand, and his tongue sticks out. “Did he give you all that gold ‘cause he thought you were sexy? Nnn, this isn’t fair, now I’m horny,” he complains, twisting over onto his stomach with a huff. “Master’s been all riled up the past few weeks so he’s been no fun, either. I’m dyin’.”

 

Arashi’s hand trembles with the temptation to run his thumb over that peeking-out tongue, but he forces it to just keep stroking through Mika’s hair. “He’s the one who gave me the gold, but it wasn’t for the sex, or anything,” he assures him. “It’s...”

 

His tongue stops.

 

He frowns, and tries again. “He did it--”

 

It happens again, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. For a moment, he can’t breathe, and he sits back, eyes wide and panicking before it unsticks. He gasps in a breath, coughing a little, pulse pounding in his ears.

 

Mika pauses, twisting his head around to watch Arashi for a long moment while he catches his breath, and his eyes narrow. “…You did a _blood pact_ ,” he breathes, and bolts upright, crawling over, suddenly far too close with his hands on Arashi’s thighs. “You can give his name, right? The noble? If he was a regular human, he couldn’t’ve done this, so, another wizard, then…”

 

Arashi’s eyes dart around the tent, breath still quick. “Can I? I’m scared to say it, what if he doesn’t let me breathe at all next time?”

 

“Umm…I don’t think blood pacts work like that? You ain’t gonna die, you jus’ can’t give away what he won’t let you give away,” Mike reassures him. “I won’t ask about what y’all talked about, I jus’ wanna know who it was with.”

 

“The Suou family,” Arashi says carefully, but when his tongue doesn’t stick, he relaxes a little. “The son, Tsukasa. I...guess I won’t tell you what for, but I honestly don’t think it’s anything bad, I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

 

“Ooooh. Wow, no wonder you came back with a lot of money,” Mika says, blinking as he sits back, his hands sliding to rest on Arashi’s knees. “We’ve both been busy while we’ve been apart, huh? Somethin’ weird happened with Master and I, too.” He hesitates, tilting his head to the side, listening for a moment. “Nnh, I wish that watcher was around, then I could tell you.”

 

Arashi cocks his head to the side. “You actually _want_ him around? Ah, can you tell me...sort of carefully? Like in code, or maybe write it down?”

 

“I’m not good at talkin’ in code,” Mika complains, worrying at his lower lip for a moment. “Yeah, gimme paper, I’ll write it down. It’s important, and I don’t wanna wait until he’s lurkin’ around to tell you.”

 

Arashi rolls to the side, grabbing for a scroll of parchment with some uninteresting text on the front, and grabs a pen and ink, passing them over. “Take your time, I’m going to get into my comfortable clothes,” he assures Mika, standing up to start undressing.

 

Mika watches him distractedly, because suddenly, explaining their run-in with Mao is less important. “Turn around when y’do it,” he says, waving his borrowed quill. “I wanna see your back muscles. And ass. Thanks.”

 

“I’m turning,” Arashi says with a laugh, “but only because I don’t want you staring at my cock, or I’m going to get us both killed.”

 

He turns, stripping, then quickly puts on a nightshirt, plopping down onto the ground next to Mika. “There. Now behave and write me an explanation.”

 

Mika rolls his eyes, and out comes the tongue again, poking out as he writes out, in surprisingly neat, floating script (absolutely reeking of Shu’s teaching and nitpicking), a brief, but necessary explanation:

 

_The watcher Mao is a spy. He even delivered a message from Master’s lover to him. His lover is really anti-Emperor and anti-Academy. There might be a war, eventually._

 

“See why I couldn’t say it out loud?” he softly says, turning the paper around to hold it up for Arashi. “You gotta burn this when we’re done, or Master could get in a lot of trouble.”

 

Arashi nods slowly, then picks up the pen, writing in a far slower, less-educated script, with odd angles and blotches dotting the page:

 

_Had a feling. Tsukasa said smthing about it. Still cant bee trusted too protect us thou._

 

Mika pauses for a moment, wondering if he should bring this up at all, then gives up and tugs the paper back.

 

_What do you know about the Demon King?_

 

“Probably better if you don’t answer that, actually,” he murmurs, exhaling a sigh. “But…that’s who Master is…y’know. _With._ Don’t say th’ name out loud, I just call him the old man friend.”

 

“If it helps, I’ve never heard the name,” Arashi admits, grabbing the paper and tossing it into the fire. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever do, though. I think my new friends, by the way? Could be really good friends in the future, and not just with gold.”

 

Mika rocks back, tilting his head. “There was more than one? Eh, I guess there had to be, the Suou family doesn’t have wizards…who was the other one? If they’re a wizard, they’re really in hidin’…nnnh, I wish they’d teach me how to do that…”

 

“I...don’t think I can really say,” Arashi warns. “But yes, there were two, though I only...took liberties with one of them.”

 

“ _Kara_ , y’know I was a whore, right? Like. You can be pretty blunt and I ain’t gonna be bothered. Unless you say they were better than I’d be, or prettier, stuff like that, then I’ll get mad.”

 

“Every single part of you is better, lovelier, and more desirable than him,” Arashi says flatly. “Come on, love, you know how I feel, don’t you? You don’t have to keep asking, I promise.”

 

“I jus’ like hearin’ you say it.” Mika flops forward, draping half off of Arashi’s bed and over his shoulders. “You gotta fuck someone in front of me at some point, though,” he breathes. “I wanna watch.”

 

“You pick them,” Arashi suggests, nuzzling into Mika’s hair. “Then you’ll know they aren’t more beautiful than you, and that I’m not choosing anyone because I want them. Um, but don’t pick anyone really ugly, I’ll go soft.”

 

“Mm, I’ve got good taste, don’t worry. I don’t wanna watch you fuck someone ugly, anyway.” Mika buries his face into Arashi’s hair, inhaling deeply, and his painted nails dig briefly into Arashi’s shoulders before he forces himself to let go through sheer will alone. “I gotta go before I start doing stupid things,” he whispers, wiping a hand down his face. “You smell good and I wanna lick you.”

 

“Get out of my tent,” Arashi groans, rolling over until he’s facedown, face pressed against the tent’s canvas floor. “I’ll die if you don’t.”

 

“ _You’ll_ die? _I’m_ gonna die,” Mika bemoans before he hauls himself to his feet and scoops up Arashi’s discarded coat. “Taking this,” he pointedly says. “Take care of my plushies ‘till I come back.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Arashi grunts, not trusting himself to roll back over until Mika is completely gone.


	13. Chapter 13

“Captain, you can’t leave yet.”

 

Tsukasa doesn’t like being directly involved in this sort of thing. There’s a great deal at stake for him; if anyone were to find out about any of the plots he has even touched in the past two and a half years, his entire family’s livelihood would likely be forfeit. That being said, it’s easier for him to maneuver his way through society than both Arashi and Ritsu combined, and that means now, standing in the doorway of Arashi’s visiting suite within the palace, _he_ has to be the one to do something and explain a touchy situation.

 

Arashi is on a schedule. Tsukasa knows this. He has to get back to his men sooner, rather than later, but that doesn’t mean that he can leave just yet—not with everything so finely balanced and at a tipping point. He sucks in a quick breath, and steps inside, pulling the door shut behind himself. “I realize you’re packing literally right now and set to leave within the hour,” he carefully says, “but I need you to attend a hearing at court. And no, you can’t say no.”

 

Arashi starts to pull a face, but he’s gotten far, far better at reminding himself that Men Don’t Do That, not in public, not where people can see him. It’s taken years for him to get a good handle on what’s allowed and not allowed in public, but his reputation is solid these days, all of his ‘mannerisms’ explained away by the folly of his youth. It makes him sick inside, but he can live through it. He has to, for himself, for his future, for his men. For Mika.

 

Instead, he sighs, leaning back against a wood-paneled wall. “A hearing at court? Sounds boring. What do I get out of this?”

 

“The one man closest to the prince in _your_ army.”

 

Tsukasa steps closer, violet eyes bright. “I understand the timing isn’t as convenient as it could be, but we saw a chance, and we had to take it. Lord Izumi—he played right into our hand, and set up this situation _perfectly_. He’s slated to be sent back to the North and removed from his position in the capital today if no one steps in and speaks on his behalf, and, well, he’s already alienated every possible high-ranking noble in the capital by refusing to be their squire. You need to speak for him and have him join your ranks.”

 

“What’s he being tried in court for?” Arashi asks, trying not to immediately refuse. “I don’t like the idea of insubordination in my ranks.” It’s the kind of thing that would never have occurred to the green Captain of fifteen years old, but he’s seen things now, he’s heard his men dying too often, he’s had to execute some of them himself, and doesn’t care to do so again.

 

“He, hmm. He punched a full-blooded knight in the face. But,” Tsukasa hastily continues before Arashi can immediately refuse, “the whole situation was deliberately arranged so that he would, so that this could _happen_ , you see. Not that he’s aware of that, or needs to be made aware, but the important thing is that he starts working for you— _with_ you.”

 

Arashi’s eyes narrow. “Will he follow orders? My orders? You know what sort of commander I am. Will he chafe under that, or can I rely on him? If he’s a scion of the North, I understand that sort of person to be quite...hard-headed. And if he’s that important, he’s going to want a leadership position, and I’d be offering his home province an insult by not giving him one.”

 

“Arashi,” Tsukasa wearily begins, “the most interaction I’ve had with him is once, he met me at a ball, deliberately forgot my name five minutes after I told it to him, and stole my dancing partner for the night. I know he’s one of the best duelists in the capital and very, um, opinionated, but none of this _matters_ and I’m sorry, but none of what you just _said_ matters either because if you don’t snatch him up, our plans are _ruined_.” He grabs Arashi by the shoulders, glaring up at him. “He’s _going_ to be the next Captain of the Kingsguard. Get him, I swear to god.”

 

Arashi’s jaw sets. “You owe me,” he says with a glare, shaking Tsukasa off of his shoulders. “I’ll send a message when I want to collect on it. Don’t forget.”

 

Then he turns on his heel and strides into the courtroom, settling into the uncomfortable seats prepared for the nobility. A few of the other nobles in attendance nod at him; that’s a good sign, something he hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t getting years ago. Now, of course, he’s One Of Them, something he hadn’t even known he’d needed to be.

 

The man Tsukasa had talked about is easy to spot, and Arashi mentally grimaces. He looks like he’ll be a handful, with a sour expression and the permanent look of someone who doesn’t know why everyone is so _mad_ at him when he obviously hadn’t _meant_ any harm. _I might have to beat that out of him_ , he thinks wearily, and stands for the young man’s sentencing. “I’ll take custody of the brat,” he calls, making the magistrate turn. “I need more bodies to throw at the Inglings.”

 

Izumi’s head jerks up, his too-blue stare red-rimmed and sharp as it fixes upon Arashi for a hot moment. Far from being his usual, put-together self, his hair is unbound and mussed, and he has a permanent sulk on his face, as well as a handkerchief stuffed to his running nose as he tries not to sniff and sneeze publicly. The magistrate, for his part, looks Arashi up and down, skeptical. “Lord Arashi—of the Sharps, was it? This isn’t _precisely_ a case that can be relegated to army service…”

 

“Perhaps it would do the wretch good,” pipes up one Lord Henessey dryly, an older, finely dressed gentleman a few rows in front of Arashi. “And he’d learn a thing or two about taking orders.”

 

“Shove off,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath.

 

“What was that, boy?”

 

“I take orders just fine if it’s from someone with half a brain. Which _wasn’t_ the case this morning—“

 

“Yes, you’ve already had your opportunity to speak, that’s enough,” the magistrate snaps, and Izumi settles back, shifting in obviously ill-contained frustration before he sneezes, and then growls underneath his breath like a furious cat.

 

“What’s better in this case?” Arashi counters, leaping over the balcony bannister and landing lightly on his feet, hearing a ripple of startled surprise run through the finely dressed men and women of the audience. He walks a fine line--just audacious enough to keep them off balance about his origins and behavior, just proper enough to be dismissed as someone who’ll play by the rules. As if he hadn’t just jumped down three meters to land in the aisle, he asks conversationally, “To send him back to the North in exile to his mother’s skirts? Or to do some use for his country. He’s always boasting about that skill of his with a blade, let him prove it.”

 

He hears the expected dark chuckles from a few Lords and Ladies, with a few exceptions--the men that Arashi knows well are hotheaded, the ones that love dueling. From what he’s heard about Izumi, he’s probably beaten those already.

 

The magistrate’s stare is an unimpressed one, but he sighs all the same after a moment’s consideration, and stamps down his mon onto the parchment in front of him before rolling it, and sealing it. “There’s no need for you to put on such a show, Lord Arashi,” he says, leaning over to hand the scroll to Arashi. “You’ve spoken for him, consider him in your custody. One step out of line, however, and it’s your head as much as his.” He glances over to Izumi. “Well, up with you, boy. And thank him, while you’re at it.”

 

Izumi climbs to his feet, but he doesn’t as much as bow his head, his nose turned up instead. “ _Thank you_ , Lord Arashi, for your generosity,” he sarcastically says, and promptly stalks down the aisle towards the door.

 

 _Damn. Can’t have that._ There are already a few knowing smirks from the assembled nobles, some of whom clearly think that Arashi won’t be able to keep him in line. Arashi’s hand shoots out faster than most humans could manage, grabbing Izumi by the back of the collar in an iron grip, then forces him to turn around and bow to the magistrate. He’s stronger than he used to be, and brings some of that to bear now, forcing Izumi’s head down. “Don’t worry, boy,” he says cheerfully, nodding his own head towards the magistrate. “I’ll make a proper soldier of you yet. Now come saddle my horse.”

 

The hiss that escapes from between Izumi’s teeth is less effective when trying to shove away from Arashi is about as effective as shoving a brick wall. He bites back a growl, but he doesn’t bother fighting back again, no matter the low, simmering anger behind his stiffly held bow.

 

A noblewoman, apropos of nothing, throws herself towards the bannister. “Lord Izumi! Lord Izumi, please take care!”

 

…which starts a whole lady’s _congregation_ of sorts, including some women that were otherwise attached to their husband’s sides now calling for him. “Let me go so I can leave,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath, trying to shrug his way out from underneath Arashi’s hand as he straightens. “Before they literally kill you for doing this.”

 

Arashi throws a calculated wink over his shoulder at one of the women, which is hopefully all he’ll have to do this week to make people think he wants to bed one. He leaves his hand on the base of Izumi’s neck, and says aloud, loud enough to be heard, “Wave goodbye to your ladies, now. Let them know I’ll return the boy as a man.”

 

“They already know I’m a man, thanks.”

 

Izumi shoves away, now seething to the point that he _can’t_ contain the scarcely suppressed rage. He barely manages to step outside of the courtroom before whirling on Arashi, his watery eyes and running nose not exactly making the most effective glare in the world. “I’m not your boy, and I’m not your damned squire,” he snaps. “The hell was that—I’d rather have been exiled!”

 

Arashi looks around, but it’s impossible to tell whether they’re still being overheard, so he holds the charade in place, striding towards the stables. “That’s because you’re spoiled and ungrateful,” he informs Izumi, voice loud. “But I’ll toughen you up, or you’ll fall to the Inglings. Now do as you’re told and _saddle my horse_.”

 

“Saddle it yourself, I have a date with the prince.” Izumi blows his nose as he pointedly turns in the opposite direction, not sparing a single glance back to Arashi. “I’ll meet up with you when you’re about to leave and not before.”

 

Arashi steps fast, face to face with Izumi, eyes challenging as he mentally eviscerates Tsukasa. “Take one more step,” he says quietly, settling into a fighting stance, “and you’ll have to go through me. Go. Saddle. My. Horse.”

 

Izumi stares up at him, his jaw set in a hard, firm line. It takes effort not to reach down for his sword—not there, not at the moment, but he might be able to rip Arashi’s off his damn hip if he’s fast enough. “…Fine,” he eventually grinds out, “but _then_ I’m going to meet with him, or I’m asking him here, and he’ll tell you to leave us alone so we can talk before you drag me off to something I didn’t fucking want.”

 

“Go saddle my horse,” Arashi repeats, eyes flashing, “and then you have half an hour to be on your own, at my side.”

 

Izumi’s lips purse and he turns away, yanking out a hair tie from his pocket to pull the mess back from his face as he stalks back towards the stables. “You think highly of yourself for a noble I’ve barely fucking heard of,” he mutters, and he sneezes again, grabbing a stableboy on his way in before Arashi can stop him. “Go chase the prince down from his ride, will you?” he casually asks, and with a brisk shove forward, the boy is gone.

 

Arashi shakes his head, stalking off to find Tsukasa and bully him a little before he leaves.

 

Just a moment later, Leo dashes up, eyes full and upset, coming to a skidding halt in front of Izumi. “Is it true?” he demands, voice hoarse. “Did those bastards trick you into doing something that got you sent away? I’ll _kill_ them, I swear--”

 

“Shh, shh, keep your voice down.” Izumi yanks Leo into his own horse’s stall, pulling the door shut firmly behind them. “I don’t know anything about them tricking me, but they probably did, knowing their opinions,” he admits, turning his head aside to wipe his nose again. If _this_ is the reward he gets for being up all night for four nights running on foal watch, catching a cold, and then punching a so-called knight for trying to abuse _his_ horse, then honestly, fuck the entire capital. “I wish I had just gotten exiled,” he manages with a sour laugh. “Instead, some high and mighty military commander spoke up for me. I don’t even know the asshole, what the hell.”

 

“Military?” Leo frowns, thinking. “If it’s Captain Arashi--I know he’s in the Capital, I’ve heard of him. He’s got quite a reputation...” He worries at his bottom lip, then pitches forward, thunking his head against Izumi’s chest. “But that’s in the West. It’s dangerous out there.”

 

“Yeah, that’s the guy,” Izumi mutters, wrapping his arms tightly around Leo to drag him in closer. “Complain and demote me to stableboy or something,” he exhales into Leo’s hair. “Then I won’t have to go.”

 

Leo sniffs, feeling shaky, overwhelmed. “I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, hands going around Izumi’s waist. “But you’d be _such_ a bad stableboy.”

 

“If it was just the horses I had to deal with, I’d be fantastic,” Izumi huffs. He squeezes Leo so hard it lifts him off of his feet, and he abruptly shoves Leo back into the wall of the stall to kiss him soundly. “Let’s run away,” he murmurs, his eyes glittering. “Right now. I’ve had enough of this, fuck the capital, fuck your father, fuck everything.”

 

“Mm,” Leo says with a sigh, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s neck. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it? We can go up North and be terribly scandalous--oooh, or we can change our names! And become _pirates_ , and go to the moon!”

 

“No. The only thing—“ Izumi turns his head aside, stifling a sneeze into his hand. “Ugh. Sorry. The only thing I agree with there is going North. No pirates especially. I…” He trails off, biting his lip, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of leaving Leo, more than anything else. His eyes water, and he sniffs, glancing away. “This isn’t fucking fair,” he miserably says. “Who’s going to take care of your sorry arse if I’m gone? Look at you, you’re…”

 

“Hey.” Leo pokes Izumi’s chest, pulling back slightly to look up into his face. “I’m totally good at being a human, you know. I’m in charge, I’m the _prince_ , I have plenty of people to watch my arse whether I want them or not. I...but you’re...you’re going to a _war_.” His voice quavers, and he swallows hard. “Your magic blood or whatever had better keep you safe, you hear? I’d...I don’t know what I’d do if you.....”

 

“I’m not going to die.” Izumi sniffs again, wiping at his nose. “I’m too good for that. And I know you _say_ you’re fine, but you don’t deserve to be here all alone, and you _are_ , no one else…no one else takes care of you and it pisses me off.”

 

Leo darts a speculative look around, then grabs Izumi by the collar, yanking him down for a long, searching kiss. He slides his hands down, then drags them up under Izumi’s shirt, cold fingers dragging over Izumi’s stomach. “I’ll be _fine_ ,” he says firmly, nuzzling his nose against Izumi’s. “Go become famous, yeah? If you’re a war hero, no one will care about the rest of it.”

 

“You’re the worst,” Izumi mumbles, grabbing Leo’s face again to kiss him again firmly. He sucks in a slow, shaky breath, shutting his eyes as he rests his forehead against Leo’s. “I have to go deal with this asshole’s horse, and then pack—gods, I hate this. I’ll write you when I can.”

 

Leo’s mouth tightens into a tight, unhappy line. “I’m gonna come visit, if I can. I’m about to start my tour of every dominance, but...I’ll find time.”

 

“If you visit me in a war zone, I’ll punt your cute arse all the way back to the capital,” Izumi growls, reaching around to pinch Leo. “Wait for me where it’s safe, I’ll find _you_.”

 

Leo pouts. “Now you’re just being rude. I didn’t become the prince just to get pinched and left behind!”

 

Izumi pauses, glancing out over the stall door, and idly shoves Leo up against it with a hand against his chest. “I wonder—do I have time to do more than just pinch you? We can find out. Sorry if I sneeze on you, but I’m not really sorry.”

 

Leo’s breath hitches, and he reaches down, loosening his laces and kicking his trousers off in less than a second. He wraps his thighs around Izumi’s waist, and drags his face close. “Spit on your cock and put it in now,” he growls, squirming around to try to yank at Izumi’s laces. “I’ll be real fast, I promise.”

 

“You’re always fast,” Izumi manages with a breathless laugh, hoisting Leo up and pressing closer as he helps loosen his own laces. “Be sweet, though,” he murmurs against Leo’s ear, tilting his head to suck on the side of his neck as he pulls his cock free, his eyes fluttering as he drags his hand down it. “Let your bastard page enjoy you properly.”

 

“You’re--already hard,” Leo groans, nails starting to dig into Izumi’s scalp, then turning his fingers, gently dragging just the finger pads over his head. “Feels good, feels--like you really want to be in me, right? My bastard page, you want to make your prince feel good, don’t you?”

 

“You’re the worst,” Izumi huffs, his breath hot against Leo’s throat before he pulls back for just a second, spitting into his palm and dragging that down the length of his cock. Precome beads just at the tip, and Izumi’s breath hitches as he shifts, the slick head of his cock nudging against Leo’s hole. “I guess I have _just_ enough time to enjoy you, huh?” he breathes, his hands dragging down to squeeze Leo’s ass, holding him tightly in place as he thrusts up, gritting his teeth against the sudden tight squeeze and the groan that threatens to leave his throat.

 

Whatever Leo was going to say dies in his mouth, transmuted to a rough, shuddering groan. His legs feel weak, but he wraps them around Izumi’s waist anyway, pulling him in tighter even as it’s far, far too much. He’s hardly ready, he’s not slick enough, Izumi feels too big, and all of that makes him whine desperately, trying not to squeal. “You’re--you feel so good,” he groans. “This is a perfect--going away, eh? Maybe you’ll--get a surprise when you come h-home...”

 

Izumi muffles a curse into Leo’s hair, burying his face there as his grip tightens and he yanks Leo down as he shoves up, burying his cock inside until there’s nowhere else for it to go. “Then we’ll really have a reason to run away together, huh?” he pants out, his nails biting into Leo’s skin as he rocks up, grinding in more slowly now that Leo’s wrapped around him and his cock is throbbing, aching when surrounded by how _hot_ Leo is inside. “Gods—you’re so tight, no matter how many times we do this.”

 

“Got to be tight for you,” Leo groans. He tries to talk more, but just manages to pant, tongue hanging out a little, drool dripping down his mouth and onto Izumi’s shoulder. “So you don’t--get bored of me, yeah? Got to stay your--favorite--broodmare--”

 

Izumi sucks hard on the side of Leo’s neck, too absorbed in fucking up into him for a moment to even _talk_. When he finally does, he’s breathless, his voice catching up in his throat with every other word, and he manages to slide a hand up to Leo’s nipples, twisting one of them between his fingers. “If you’re not knocked up when I get back,” he rasps, “I’m going to keep you locked up and fuck you until you are. Being a good little mare—t-that’s what you’re made for, right?”

 

With a gasp and a squeal, Leo comes over his belly between them, Izumi’s words thundering in his ears. His head thunks back against the wood of the stable door, and his fingernails dig in deep, drawing blood from the back of Izumi’s neck. “Come in me,” he whines, eyes fluttering madly.

 

It isn’t like he needs any encouragement—not when Leo is clinging to him, his nails raking against his skin, his voice in his ear all squeaky and breathless—and Izumi shoves up hard, gasping against Leo’s hair when he comes, slick and messy and buried inside as far as he can go.

 

“Fuck,” he groans, slumping forward, his legs wobbling for a moment before he steadies himself with a hand shoved agains the stall door. “Gods…Leo, fuck, you’re perfect…”

 

“You got the best part of me,” Leo murmurs, leaning up to kiss Izumi’s hair, trembling. “Take it with you. My heart, I mean, not my arse.”

 

“Both are good,” Izumi lowly teases as he catches Leo’s mouth with his own. “But…mmn, the heart’s the one I’m taking with me, you’re right.”

 

Leo’s eyes sting, and he kisses back, letting his legs droop down to rest on the floor. “Keep it next to yours. They’d better both be safe the next time I see you.”

 

“That’s the plan,” Izumi softly says, rubbing a thumb slowly across one of the hickeys he left on Leo’s neck, making it vanish with only a vague, throbbing ache of a headache to follow. The scratches on his back sting, but he refuses to let them heal, no matter the focus that takes. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”


	14. Chapter 14

Mika has not stopped sulking for a solid week.

 

But finally, _finally_ , Izumi isn’t lurking around the tent he shares with Shu first thing in the morning. Why Shu wanted Izumi around in the first place never made sense, but it’s been worse and worse as Izumi has gradually taken over every single activity Shu _used_ to only do with him—but with more gusto, because pretty silver hair and long legs and full lips and a brilliant smile _apparently_ means that even Shu, paranoid, nervous Shu, will strip down and—

 

Mika snuffs out the irritated, violet-colored flames that threaten to destroy his newest sewing project, and tries not to think about that anymore.

 

He has bigger concerns. Namely, Arashi seems to like Izumi _too much_ as well, and that’s…stressful. If he thinks about it for too long, it’s enough to make his magic hard to control in the ways it hasn’t been since his first years of training in the Academy, and that frightens him. The threat of being shipped back to the Academy courtesy of jealousy makes him anxious to the point of disfunction, and today, he huddles up in a pillow fort that he never wants to leave, sewing quickly enough that he pricks the same finger twice, and glowers at Shu from across the tent.

 

“If you have something to say, and holding it inside is making your work as sloppy as it looks,” Shu says, not looking up from his own sewing project, a replacement Nightcloak for Wataru (who had worn out the wing-holes in his current model), “then please vent it. Outside, if possible, but to me if you must. The constant sighing is giving me indigestion.”

 

Never mind. This is his current, biggest concern, Mika is certain of that, and his lower lip wobbles immediately at the thought. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, offering an unhappy little noise instead before diving underneath his pile of blankets, a huddled, miserable little lump.

 

“If you make me guess what you’re upset about,” Shu says, dipping his needle swiftly into his cloak, “you will not enjoy it. I’ve just looked over your body, I know you aren’t injured or ill.”

 

Another, displeased little noise escapes from Mika’s pile. He shifts again, restless. “…Why d’you like him so much?” he finally asks, forcing his tongue to move when it feels like lead in his mouth.

 

“Who? I don’t like anyone. Except sometimes you.”

 

“Nn. Not true. You keep invitin’ that snake around here.”

 

“Snake? Lord Izumi?” Shu rolls his eyes. “Yes, heaven forfend that I might enjoy the company of a beautiful man, this is very off-the-mark for me, obviously.”

 

“Not the same,” Mika mumbles, slumping down. He stabs his needle directly between the eyes of his newest snog project. “You like him a lot. It’s different.”

 

Shu sets his needle aside, pursing his lips in exasperation. “He’s not my apprentice, nor my lover, nor my comrade. Do you hate it so much that I have a friend?”

 

“Yeah, when…when he apparently makes y’feel good enough that y’don’t even think twice ‘bout doin’ the stuff you never wanna do with me.” Mika sinks down into his blankets. “He ain’t that special.”

 

Shu’s first instinct is to say something soothing, but he ignores it. “I don’t like this side of you, Mika. Jealousy is not your best look. I do hope you get over this soon. Milady is disappointed in you.”

 

“B-both you and Arashi like him, I ain’t gonna get over it.” Mika pulls a pillow over his head with a huffy little sound that sounds very close to a sob that he’s just barely biting back. “I don’t get it, he’s jus’ _mean_ , and scary, and h-he hurts my eyes and if..if y’jus’ wanted someone pretty, I can do that…”

 

Shu sighs heavily, setting his sewing aside, moving to the bed to firmly take Mika into his arms. “You’re utterly ridiculous,” he says firmly. “He isn’t my lover. I can make use of him because I _don’t_ care about him like I do you.”

 

Immediately, Mika latches onto him, burying his wet face into Shu’s neck and pressing himself as close as possible. “B-b-but y’still like him a lot a-and…” Mika’s fingers fist into the back of Shu’s cloak. “Someone like h-him…I can’t compete, y’know? I dunno how to be like that, and I’ve n-never seen you act like that with anyone else…”

 

“Mika.” Shu tucks Mika’s head into his neck, arms strong, voice rumbling in his chest. “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else, though I’d prefer if you don’t repeat that. You are...the work of my life, you little fool. You being jealous of him is like Milady being jealous of my boot. Certainly a boot is more useful, but do you ever think I could prefer it over something beloved?”

 

Mika sucks in a hiccuping breath, and he swallows hard, shutting his eyes as he just tries to focus on listening to Shu’s voice for a moment so he can calm down. It’s easier said than done, and he blinks hard, hot tears streaking down his cheeks. “I…it’d be one thing…if he was _just_ someone you liked,” he whispers. “That’s scary enough. He’s so pretty, a-and smart, and…and he’s obviously somethin’ magic, but…but he ain’t a wizard, so Arashi can do whatever he wants. And he _really_ likes ‘im. It ain’t hard to tell. So it’s…it’s both of you, and I ain’t got nothin’ else, y’know? S-sorry, sorry, it’s dumb, I’m dumb, but I can’t stop thinkin’ about it…”

 

“There,” Shu says quietly, pulling back to grab Mika’s face, holding it still, “is _no one_ better than you are. You are clever, and lovely, and intriguing, and honestly, this is the best thing you can hope for.”

 

His eyes burn violet, and little fires start all over the room. “If the Captain deserves you, he will stay loyal to you. And if he _can_ be tempted away, he will be by Izumi, who is beautiful and talented as well. You don’t have a resonant bond, and you’re both young. You will have to deal with this sooner or later.”

 

Mika’s eyes well up with fresh tears, and his own power flutters wildly, setting his newest, half-finished snog plush afire. He ignores it, letting it burn. There’s probably _some_ truth to the shit that the Emperor says about relationships just not being a safe choice for wizards when things like this can affect him so easily. “H-he says he loves me—you d-don’t need a bond for that,” he whispers, looking down, his fingers twisting up into his own sleeves. “There…there shouldn’t be nothin’ to deal with. This isn’t fair.”

 

“And with a bond, I can rarely eat or sleep when my lord isn’t near me, and I had no choice in the matter,” Shu says softly. “Love is awful. If the Emperor could ban it, I wouldn’t hate him so much. It makes us all stupid.”

 

“Why can’t we jus’ be together, that’d be easier.” He’s upset enough to say it out loud when he normally wouldn’t, and Mika lurches forward to bury his face back into Shu’s neck. “Arashi thinks he’s _fun_ ,” he miserably says. “I can be fun. I jus’ don’t know swords, but I’m still fun.”

 

Shu twines his arms around Mika’s waist, dragging him in closer, as close as he dares, though all of their clothes are still on. “It would be easier,” he allows, though it costs him something, a confused, fuzzy pain inside of him. “But you love the boy, unworthy though he is of it. You prefer to talk to me about magic, don’t you? Don’t begrudge him someone to talk to about his special interest. Or dump him now and get rid of the issue.”

 

Mika bites his lip as he flops his arms over Shu’s shoulders, huddling up against him. He stares blearily into the pale skin of Shu’s neck, and sniffles. “If it were jus’ that…it…it wouldn’t bother me,” he softly says. “I snuck out t’go to his tent, like I always do, and th’ snake was in his bed. I know—I know I’ve told him it’s fine t’sleep with other people, but he’s never—he’s never been _interested_ in them!”

 

“Should we kill him?” Shu asks, a bit casually. “You’re worth a hundred of him, and if he’s breaking your heart, I won’t hate seeing him die.”

 

“N-no! No, I don’t want him to die, I…” Mika huffs out a wet breath, lifting his head to stare up at Shu, his face flushed and tear-streaked. “It ain’t fair. I know we aren’t bonded or nothin’, but t-that doesn’t mean I don’t love him a lot. I dunno what to do. M-maybe if I begged that watcher t’stick around for a few hours, I could show Arashi that I’m way better than that stupid snake and he wouldn’t wanna do anythin’ with him anymore…”

 

“Now you’re just being a brat,” Shu says, as gently as he can manage when he’s reaching his limit of compassion, just wanting to fix everything with harsh words and magic. “He isn’t preferring Izumi’s arse to yours. He can’t touch you. I warned you about this, didn’t I?”

 

Despite his words, he strokes a gentle hand over Mika’s face, soothing away his tears. “Human men are designed to rut like beasts. I told you that staying with him would hurt both of you.”

 

“No, he’s jus’ preferring something he _can_ have to something he can’t,” Mika mumbles, butting his face into Shu’s touch. “I only like two people, why’s someone like Izumi gotta like both of them, too?”

 

Shu shrugs. “I don’t think he likes me that much. But I doubt you need to worry, honestly. He’s desperately in love with his prince, he doesn’t want your Captain.”

 

Mika exhales a low, grumbling noise. “Ain’t what it looks like to me,” he mutters, and he shoves his face back into Shu’s neck. “I dunno how much longer I can stand this. What if I blow everything up and we go?”

 

“How is that different from my plan of murdering him?” Shu asks, disapprovingly. “I had a perfectly decent plan with lots of fire. This is irony, of course, I’m lying low until my lord returns.”

 

“I ain’t gonna blow _Arashi_ up, I’m gonna blow everything else up and take him and we go.” Mika’s tongue pokes out, annoyed. “Your old man friend is takin’ toooo long.”

 

“I know. He’ll be hearing from me.” It’s fine to talk big, though Shu can’t imagine him doing anything other then kneeling at Rei’s feet when he finally does return. The temptation is strong, to extend a thought towards that space in his mind, but even that could set a Watcher off.

 

Mika shifts unhappily. “How long are we supposed t’wait for him?” he quietly asks. Normally, he doesn’t voice this kind of thing. Shu is already stressed, already worried, already on the edge all the time, but on a day like this, it’s harder to keep his mouth shut. _Everything_ feels like too much right now, and Mika rolls the hems of his sleeves up into his hands to pick at them. “It’s been a long time since you got a letter, Master.”

 

“Stop it.” Shu releases Mika immediately, harsh lines of pain crossing his face as he stands. Milady flutters in agitation, and he stalks to the edge of the tent, chest heaving as he clutches at the fabric. “Stop it right now. I have to have faith in him.”

 

“Why do we have to wait for him to do anything, though?” Mika presses, hauling himself to his feet and trailing after Shu, unable to bite his tongue now that he’s started. “Between the two of us—we’re just as strong, aren’t we? I…I know the Emperor’s hurt you, but I can take him, if you can take the Faerie, between the two of us we gotta be able to do _something_ —“

 

Shu jerks his hand to the side, and a strange, flat silence descends on the tent, walling the sound inside off from the rest of the world. It’s not a perfect system, and they likely only have a few seconds before a Watcher comes running to see what’s wrong, but his eyes are blazing, furious. “Talk like that one more time and we’re both dead,” he hisses. “And my _lord_ is at risk. There aren’t just two fearsome creatures in the Academy! There are _hundreds_ of wizards who would rise against us! How am I supposed to keep you safe like that?”

 

Mika flinches back automatically, but then sucks in a quick breath, squaring his shoulders and steeling himself no matter how _scary_ Shu can get when he’s angry. “S-so we’re just supposed to wait until he comes and takes them all on himself?” he pushes back, switching quickly to sand tongue. Even if Shu can’t speak it, he understands well enough, and it muddles anyone’s understanding of the conversation enough that overhearing them is at least partially useless. “ _Master_ —it’s been years! Maybe we’re supposed to be doing something, maybe we should be working with that Watcher more, m-maybe…I don’t know, there has to be _something._ ”

 

“Do you trust me?” Shu demands. The lines of pain around his eyes make him look older than his years, and the back light of violet fire makes him look taller, more imposing. “I told you _years_ ago that this might be decades. You still wanted to be my apprentice. You’ve learned from me, you’re a fully-fledged wizard, go work for someone else if you think you can do better!”

 

“Of course I trust you! That’s…that’s not what I’m saying, you’re not _listening_ to me!” Tears well back up into Mika’s eyes, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I trust _you_ , but how am I supposed to trust someone else that just left you behind?!”

 

Footsteps pound at the ground outside, a slight magical signature following, and Shu disbands the spell with a wave of his hand, looking haggard with grief and loneliness. Slowly, he sinks down to his knees on the ground, shoulders sagging. “I can’t talk about this anymore,” he whispers, looking down at his hands. “I can’t--I’m not ready. He’s probably...waiting for me to be less...to be stronger...”

 

Mika trembles for a moment, frustrated, unsure, _terrified_ , before he wavers, giving up and dropping down next to Shu, grabbing for his hands. “It isn’t your fault, I _know_ it isn’t your fault,” Mika whispers. “I’m sorry, Master, I…I won’t mention it again, all right?”

 

“You’re wrong, it _is_ my fault,” Shu insists, tears dropping from his chin. He starts to shake, eyes wide, frightened, as if he’s seeing something that isn’t there. “They’re--if they heard, I’m going to--I can’t, I can’t, not again, I--”

 

With that, he slumps over, eyes rolling up, in a dead faint.

 

Mika bites his lip and drags Shu closer, ripping a blanket off of the side of their bed to drape over him when a Watcher finally tugs open the side of the tent— _not_ Mao, which is the _worst._ Mika refuses to even look at the white-cloaked man, his hands trembling as they fist into Shu’s clothes.

 

“One of these days,” the Watcher says after taking the scene in, “we’re going to get someone from the Sandlands in to decipher the mess that comes out of your mouth. Let him go, you know the rules. Do you want to be sent back in for reeducation because you can’t keep your hands—“

 

The Watcher’s scolding is abruptly cut off by a whack to the back of his head, and it’s Izumi that strides in, annoyed. “Leave it be, the Nightcloak’s a special case and you know it,” he flatly says. “He was probably having one of his damned panic attacks, be glad the camp isn’t in flames right now.”

 

“With all due respect—“

 

“I don’t need your respect, I need you to get out. _I_ stress them out and I’m their bodyguard, I can’t imagine what you’re doing.”

 

The Watcher’s mouth thins, and he whirls on his heel, muttering something about _needing to file a report_ before he leaves, the tent flap fluttering behind him. Izumi rolls his eyes, unfazed, and he grabs Shu away before Mika can protest, hauling him up onto the bed. “That’s enough out of you, Excellency,” he grumbles, grabbing a mug of water off of a table and promptly tips it out onto Shu’s face.

 

Sputtering, coughing, Shu’s eyes fly open. Tiny violet birds flutter around him for a moment before he banishes them, flinching away from the sounds, the lights, the horrible wet feeling sinking into him. “What--no, please, I didn’t mean to, please don’t--”

 

He catches his breath, seeing Izumi above him, and just grabs for his cloak, pulling it up over his head.

 

“There, see, you’re fine. I sent your Academy friend away.” Izumi rocks back, frowning. “Do they just…do that? Barge in whenever they feel like it?”

 

Mika makes a low, hissing noise and promptly crawls up onto the bed next to Shu, diving underneath Shu’s cloak to join him in shaking uselessly.

 

“My fault.” The words are almost too quiet to hear, raspy and broken, and Shu turns over onto his side. “I...I lost control. I’m.....sorry, Mika.”

 

“N-no, it was my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“ Mika’s speech is a broken mix of common and sand tongue, and he clings helplessly to Shu. “I w-won’t say anything like that again, I’m sorry…”

 

Izumi stares for a moment before shaking his head and moving back to the front flap of the tent. “No one’s going to bother you two, just go back to whatever you were doing,” he mutters, pulling it shut behind him as he steps outside to personally stand guard.

 

“You can’t,” Shu whispers, dragging the fabric over his face. Milady makes a tinkling, nervous little glass noise, fluttering above him. “If they hurt you--it’s one thing if it’s me, but you _can’t_ give him the excuse, you can’t.”

 

Mika shakes his head firmly, trembling as he clutches at the front of Shu’s shirt. “I a-already know what they’ll do to me, I’m not scared,” he whispers, his eyes a little too-wide, unhinged. “Master…if they tried to do anything to you again…I dunno what I’d do, but I know I won’t let them touch you.”

 

“It would be different. I’ve heard them talk about it. If it’s you...they’re too afraid of what you’d do in re-education,” Shu says, still hardly above his breath. “They’ll just get rid of you. Don’t you dare make me live through that.”

 

“They can’t get rid of me, I’ll kill ‘em all first.” Mika’s grasp is white-knuckled now, and he shoves his face firmly into Shu’s neck. “And then bring ‘em back and make them kill the rest. They can’t stop me.”

 

“Please, stop,” Shu begs, eyes and throat raw and sore. “You said you would, I’ll send you away if you don’t, I’ll send you to the _islands_ \--”

 

“S-sorry, sorry, I just…I hate all of this _so much._ ” Mika shivers, and pulls his own cloak over the two of them as well. “He’s…he’s gotta contact you soon, right?” he whispers. “He won’t make you wait much longer.”

 

“If you ask me one more time,” Shu says wearily, eyes squeezed shut, “I really will just die. And it would serve you right. I--ah, this is--I’m--”

 

He bolts up, running to the edge of the tent and falling to his knees, retching up everything he’s eaten in the last few days, the world going dark around the edges of his eyes.

 

There’s not much that can be done with Shu when he’s like this, but Mika _does_ try, considering the guilt that eats at him in knowing he’s aggravated the entire situation.

 

The stress that comes with taking care of Shu when he’s in this kind of condition only grows in knowing that Watchers are lurking about—and even Izumi’s rudeness only does so much to keep them away, especially when he’s drawn off to his duties that have nothing to do with being a bodyguard.

 

At least the Watcher that drops by in the middle of the night, just before dawn, is the only preferable one.

 

Mika jumps nearly out of his skin at the rustle of the tent’s flap, and huddles up against Shu’s side protectively. It’s Mao that steps inside, however, setting his lantern down once he enters the dimly lit tent, his red hair stark in the light as he lowers the hood of his cloak with a sigh. Silence immediately, sharply reigns, and it’s unsettling to the point that Mika visibly shakes. “The two of you are already a magnet for reports,” he softly says. “Please, I implore you, try not to stir up more Watchers in your direction than necessary. Excellency, you look very unwell.”

 

“I wouldn’t be unwell if I weren’t being watched all the blasted time,” Shu snaps, smoothing his hair back behind his ears. “I despise being monitored like this. Say what you need to say, the sight of your face makes my stomach churn. It reminds me of people I hate, very unpleasant.”

 

“I’m doing what I can to become the sole monitor of Captain Arashi’s army, but it’s difficult when the two of you bring in incident reports almost weekly,” Mao wearily says, and he pulls free a sealed letter from the pocket of his coat. “Perhaps this will make you feel better, Excellency.”

 

A tremor runs through Shu. He feels the last hints of clinging magic around the letter, and he grabs for it, ripping it open, fighting the urge to rub the paper on his face. As roughly as he’d treated the envelope, he treats the letter like spun glass, opening it as carefully as possible, eyes scanning the words.

 

_My love,_

 

_There’s no such thing as a dream we can’t envision when you’re held in my arms. But do me an enormous favor and calm yourself and the little bird, or I’m going to be inclined to show myself far too early out of sheer worry for you. Make use of this messenger of mine, he’s here for you to use as you like; there’s no reason for you to suffer unnecessarily. If you have a request, don’t hold back._

 

“That maddening fool,” Shu says quietly, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. “Mika, find me paper and pen at once, and my best writing desk. You can take one back to him, I assume?”

 

Mao hesitates, but he nods in spite of that, even as he turns away to pull a glittering red stone from the pouch hanging at his belt. “I don’t recommend it, but if you will it, then I’ll do it,” he wryly answers, kneeling down to shove the stone down into the earth right next to the entrance of the tent. “Honestly, if you two weren’t so nervous all of the time, it would be so much easier to get things accomplished around here…”

 

Mika sticks his tongue out at Mao’s back as he does as he’s told, bringing over Shu’s writing table and essentials. “Tell him to hurry up,” he grumpily says, flopping down at Shu’s feet.

 

“Perhaps if you want to accomplish things with my aid,” Shu snaps, “you should give us some hint of what must be done.” Sitting at his desk, he quickly inks his pen, and his quill darts swiftly across the page.

 

_My lord,_

 

_I await your pleasure until the ends of the earth. My good humor, however, evaporates by the day. The more fool you, you bonded your star to a man of incredible talent and an unbearable sickness of the mind. And my little bird sickens in the heart by the day, and I haven’t the ability to care for him properly under the current regime._

 

_And there are too many eyes_

 

_I will prevail onwards. Make haste, but do so within your means. I will survive as long as I can._

 

“Take this to him before I rethink,” Shu says, handing over the letter. “And don’t offer to do me any task if you’ll balk at such a small thing in the future, idiot.”

 

Mao stares back at him, taking the letter, and with his touch, the trace of magic that Shu’s mere presence brings silences to nothing. “You misunderstand. Your lord offers that to you, Excellency,” he says unflinchingly. “Not me. I merely am doing as he bids, as per our contract. I’m your servant, nothing more.”

 

“Excellent, I’ve always wanted a servant that offers no value, talks back, and can’t even follow basic commands,” Shu snaps, and throws the blanket back over his head, clutching the letter close to his heart. “You can go.”

 

Mao’s lips part, but he bites his tongue as quickly as a quip comes to it. He bows instead, and swiftly turns, disappearing from the tent and into the night.

 

“Suspicious,” Mika grumbles, crawling back to Shu’s side, burying his face into his shoulder. “Even jus’ his letter feels nice, huh? It’s so quiet still, even though the Watcher’s gone…”

 

“I hate everyone except you and my lord,” Shu says bluntly, laying his cheek on Rei’s letter. “Izumi I will tolerate. But as for everyone else, I just can’t wait until my lord destroys them.”

 

At that, Mika preens, and pulls another blanket up and over them, creating a cozy nest for the two of them. “That’ll be good,” he softly agrees. “I can’t wait to watch.”


	15. Chapter 15

Three years of training, in a place where Natsume can use his magic freely, is one thing. Three months of traveling, exploring every nook and cranny of their realm, ferreting out secrets relevant to the King, is something else, and something that Wataru considers far more applicable.

 

So it is that after training Natsume as well as he can while staying in one place, he’s dragged him from sea to mountains, from city to plains, investigating magical oddities and discovering intriguing solutions. Watching Natsume’s talents flower and bloom, faster than he’d ever thought possible, helps Wataru’s heart heal a little more, day by day.

 

Still, a fifty-year hurt won’t evaporate in a few months, but with every day, his smile is a little more genuine, a little less forced. And every day he manages to get a smile from Natsume, particularly one that isn’t smug or secretive, feels like a triumph.

 

Just now, they’re on a mission from Rei, a directive to infiltrate the mysterious Hinterlands, a chilly area East of the North that sprawls through the Hintervalley. “So,” Wataru begins their daily lesson, settling the reins of their horses across his lap, turning to Natsume in the seat of the cart, “tell me everything you remember about the Hinterlands. Who runs them, their primary export, and most importantly, why on _earth_ our beloved Emperor thought it was important to send us up here in the dead of winter.”

 

Natsume’s teeth chatter no matter how he tries to make them _stop,_ and he huddles up grumpily into his cloak. Even with an extra one underneath it, lined in heavy fur, he’s still chilled, and he blames his own islander blood for the inconvenience. “The Kanzaki run this place for _some_ reason,” he sniffs, lifting a gloved hand to push a strand of his hair out of his face, no matter how it’s blown right back there by the wind. He’s lopped it shorter now, and instead of tumbling in long waves to his hips, it falls in a simple, pin-straight tail just past his mid-back, tied there neatly with a leather thong. Prolonged, extreme use of magic has bleached even more of it to bright, stark white, marking him unmistakably as a wizard (if the cloak wasn’t enough of a sign) no matter where he goes. “The whole place is dedicated to nothing but mining, and why we’re here…so we suffer and _die,_ apparently.” He huffs, and the breath turns to thick white fog in front of him. “Lord Rei is invested in the slave trade more and more.”

 

Wataru frowns. “Before we continue, would you like to cast a warming spell over yourself? Or shall I hold you in my arms? Or perhaps call many birds to settle over you and shelter you from the elements?”

 

“Hold me,” Natsume immediately demands, taking that as an invitation to immediately claw his way into Wataru’s lap. Bare legs underneath pinned and rucked up skirts are not helpful in this sort of weather. “Crush me beneath your warmth, birds are fine, too.”

 

Wataru flicks at the fastenings of his cloak, then twirls it around Natsume, dragging him in close. “I’d have thought you’d be warmer with all those skirts,” he says merrily. “So, then. Extrapolate further--why does our beloved Emperor care so much about the slave trade? Thoughts?”

 

Natsume buries his way down, pleased now that he’s underneath _three_ cloaks and Wataru’s embrace. “Nn. Mm. Uh. Makes the Shadowlands look bad. Hinterlands border it. Also, bird pet. What’s his name, the necromancer. Pet me,” he adds demandingly, butting his head against Wataru’s shoulder.

 

“His name is Mika,” Wataru says with a laugh. “Now, should you not be confused? Why should we focus our energies up here, when everyone knows the slave trade is in the land of perfumes and silks?”

 

“You aren’t petting me so I can’t answer that.”

 

Wataru trills out a laugh, then unfastens the tail in Natsume’s hair, stroking his fingers through the long red-and-white strands. “Hmm, I wonder why you’re physically changing so much. That islander blood, I’ll wager. It _does_ make you look ever so striking, little kitten.”

 

Natsume exhales a long, hot breath, and lurches up into the touch, as helpless as a moth to a flame. “Maybe it’s because my magic won’t _stop_ ,” he breathes, his golden-eyed stare glittering as he looks up at Wataru. “And I can’t _make it_ stop. It’s leaky. Hey, let’s go back to the isles, warmer is better.”

 

“But in the isles, we’re no use to the crown.” Wataru pauses. “It sounds delightful, doesn’t it? I adore being useless. Ah, you’re squirming quite a lot, aren’t you?”

 

“You’re petting me, I can’t help it. Mommy would looove you.” Natsume reaches up, clutching at Wataru’s arm to make sure he doesn’t pull too far away. As per usual, Wataru is distractedly warm, and any particular part of him that Natsume clings to is solid and (even more distractingly) strong. “I don’t care about the crown,” he cheerfully says. “I care about doing what _I_ want.”

 

“Mm, I feel the same in a very deep way.” Wataru presses a kiss to Natsume’s hair, then smiles, to cover the rather unwelcome surge of feelings that wells up in him. _No time for that, not now._ “I daresay I don’t mind, if you truly want to leave. I’ll likely continue on here, because I have nothing else to do with my life.”

 

“I don’t want to _leave_ , not unless you’re coming with me,” Natsume growls, seconds from turning his head and sinking his teeth into Wataru’s shoulder to make a point. He huffs, settling himself with a full-body shiver, and plasters himself against Wataru’s side again. “What were we talking about. Right. Slaves.”

 

It takes Wataru quite a bit longer to find his words than usual, with the way Natsume is shuddering on his lap. “Ah...yes. Yes! Tell me about why we’re up here in the Hinterlands instead of where it’s toasty and smells nice?”

 

“Because there are slaves up here, too, for _some_ reason.” Natsume shifts on Wataru’s lap, lacing his arms around his neck to tangle his hands up into Wataru’s hair. “And Lord Rei doesn’t like that.”

 

“And why does he hate that? Besides a general distaste of humans being used as chattel, of course.”

 

“Because of personal investment with his necromancer, the only reason Lord Rei ever deals with things he finds distasteful?” Natsume sweetly says, fluttering his lashes. “Is that rude? It’s probably rude.”

 

“Ah, delightful! It’s time for a lesson in economics.” Wataru tightens his arms around Natsume’s chest, tucking him in closer. “Imagine you’re on your mother’s estate on your island. She owns the entire island, does she not?”

 

Natsume burrows in, the sound exhaled from his lips much like a purring little sigh. “Mm, mm, the entire island. You’re _very_ warm, Master…”

 

“It’s my inner fires,” Wataru assures him. “So, what if one of the villages on the far end of your mother’s island suddenly found an enormous cache of gold, say, that washed up on shore? And they started building a palace, larger than your mother’s, and thick tall walls around the whole city?”

 

“Kill them.”

 

“Because they’re suddenly a wealthy threat that cut into your mother’s profits and defenses, yes?” Wataru flutters a hand. “Just the same with Rei and the Sandlands. If it were only them, that would be dangerous--they’re quite wealthy. But if they were able to recruit the Hinterlands? And you know what the mines produce, mainly?”

 

“Diamonds? Ah, so, Lord Rei wants us to cut this down before it gets too big, then.” Natsume slides his hands underneath Wataru’s shirt, content to enjoy the warmth of his back underneath his fingers. “This hardly seems like a _wizard_ task, but I suppose all normal humans are _idiots._ ”

 

“The Hinterland mines,” Wataru corrects, “produce ninety percent of the weapons used in this country, kitten. And it’s quite difficult to defeat a probable uprising when your sword dealer is facing you on the field.”

 

“Diamonds sound more fun,” Natsume mutters, sinking his nails in slowly. “Does everyone out here find the crown so distasteful that they’d uprise already?”

 

“Far from it!” A dove flutters down from a nearby tree to say hello, then flaps off again, with Wataru’s silent blessing. “No, my sweet, it isn’t that they dislike our King. It’s that they see profit in secession--if they were to be different countries, they could increase tariffs and taxes, as the crown is the largest consumer of both steel weapons and, well, gentlemen and ladies of negotiable virtue, as my mentor used to say.”

 

“Mmm. So we have to go and poke around and…what?” Wataru’s back is very solid. Natsume wriggles one hand out of a glove, and lets those nails sink directly into the skin, because he can. “I don’t particularly care, but if that’s what Lord Rei wants, fine.”

 

Wataru looks down, blinking. “Are you trying to draw blood?” he asks, genuinely curious. “If so, you’ll have better luck with biting. Ah, no, _you_ are here to poke around and see where commoner sentiment is prevailing. _I_ am leaving you behind for a week or so.”

 

Natsume’s head jerks up, his stare immediately sharp and accusing. “Why?” he suspiciously asks, and his nails _now_ bite in with the intent to draw blood, if possible. “Where are you going? Why can’t I come?”

 

The skin around Wataru’s eyes tightens slightly with the prick of Natsume’s nails. “I’m going to the Shadowlands. And you’re welcome to come with me, but no one up there speaks Common, and they mistrust anyone who doesn’t know Shadowtongue. I’d spend most of my time defending and protecting you, or cleaning up your murders.”

 

Natsume’s mouth immediately turns down, and he arches up, releasing Wataru’s back in favor of pulling on his hair again. “You waited until now to tell me about this so I couldn’t say no,” he flatly accuses. “Why do you have to go to the Shadowlands? What does Lord Rei have you doing? I don’t like this, if he does something that gets you hurt, I’ll eat him.”

 

Wataru looks down at Natsume, but his smile, bright and cheerful, doesn’t reach the sudden grim sadness in his eyes. “Nothing of interest, my sweet. Just a developing situation that I’d honestly rather keep you out of, but Rei cannot let go uninvestigated.”

 

“I _will_ eat him.” Natsume’s stare is intense, and not allowing a second of Wataru’s displeasure go unnoticed. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll go, I’ll kill people, they probably deserve it.”

 

“Do your job in the Hinterlands, and I’ll tell you everything when I come back,” Wataru promises, cupping Natsume’s chin in his hand, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Everything you want to know, I promise.”

 

Natsume’s mouth twists a bit more, and he lurches up against the hold, his hands fisting into Wataru’s hair. He pulls Wataru within a centimeter of his lips, his own breath catching up in his throat, his own cheeks flushing hot as his fingers tremble, and he stares, long and hard before slowly sinking back down, frustrated with the situation as much as himself. “Eventually, you’ll take me everywhere,” he moodily says. “I’m strong enough.”

 

Electricity crackles through the air. Wataru feels it, hears it, feels the flutter of ghostly wings on his back, and he whispers, “What do you see in me?” The words come out far more honest than he’d prefer, but he just can’t stop them. “Why do you think it’s so important to follow me, Natsume? I haven’t been any better for you than any other teacher would have been.”

 

“Wrong.” The answer is immediate and abrupt, much like most of Natsume in his day to day life, but that much more sharp when he refuses to break eye contact. “You’re the only teacher I want. You’re the only one who understands. You’re…” He falters, struggling for a moment, and his gaze finally flickers sideways. “Asking a stupid question. Honestly.”

 

Warmth blooms in Wataru’s chest. He breathes in deeply, then nods, looking away as color appears in his cheeks. He clears his throat, but doesn’t bother adjusting Natsume in his lap. He has enough control over his own body to avoid such a thing. “Well, I am a foolish jester, am I not? So. I believe in your ability to ferret out the discontent here. And I’ll be back before you know it, and tell you everything you could wish to hear, and likely quite more.”

 

“You _better_.” Natsume exhales a slow breath, watching it escape white in the cold air, and he turns his head, burying his face down into Wataru’s shoulder. “The only thing I want anymore is you,” he murmurs, twisting a few strands of Wataru’s hair around his shaking fingers. “So I hate it when you leave. Don’t take that lightly or I _will_ draw blood.”

 

“Duly noted.” Wataru strokes Natsume’s hair, and drinks in the scent of him for a long moment, soaking it in, storing it up for the land of dusky shadows he’s about to enter. “If you’re tired of waiting for me, do fly. I’ll find you, no matter where you go.”

 

“I’m not tired of _waiting_.” Natsume slowly starts to braid the captured strands of Wataru’s hair, his eyes lidding. “But I want you around all the time, even if I’m waiting. I don’t think I like anyone else anymore, and the people I do like—they can’t go where I go. So. Mm.”

 

“Indeed.” Wataru flicks an eye to the side, and points. “Ah, that should be Setsurian, last city before we enter the Hinterlands. Shall we stop at an Inn for the night? Or does Milady prefer another night in the cart under our cloaks?”

 

“Inn,” Natsume immediately demands, all but climbing up Wataru to get a better look at the city in the distance. “Inn, where it’s warm and maybe we can drink, and I can get _warmer_. Kitties need a good, warm place to sleep or they’ll _die._ ”

 

“True, of course.”

 

It’s the nicest inn in all Setsurian that Wataru chooses, splurging a bit with a line of credit right to the Academy to secure them a private room, complete with two steaming bowls of stew served with hunks of incredibly fresh bread and trenchers of milk. Another wink to the innkeeper gives him an extra provision, a set of extra coverlets and a lute, stuffed into the bedroom just as Wataru leads Natsume upstairs. “I told him we’re newlyweds,” he sing-songs, beaming as he swings the door open. “After you, Milady.”

 

Natsume flounces in, collapsing down into the warm, soft bed immediately. It’s a delight after days and weeks of traveling, and he groans, stretching out onto his stomach, arms forward, booted feet kicking slowly into the air. “Being a pretty girl still has it’s advantages, huh?” he sighs, kneading his fingers into one of the _very_ squishy down pillows. “Even if I don’t dress like a lady of a fine house anymore…mm, this is _nice._ ”

 

“Fortunately, there are people now who will adore you no matter what’s under your skirts,” Wataru points out, flopping back onto the bed. Then, cheerfully, he picks up one of the down pillows and tosses it into the air, making it land down on Natsume’s face. “Happy Honeymoon, beloved!”

 

Natsume punts the pillow back over, and rolls, flopping atop Wataru instead. He plops his chin into his hands, peering down at Wataru. “Are you being cute because you’re going to _leave me_ for weeks? I’ll bite you for real.”

 

“You’re right, of course. I’ll be horrible because I’m going to leave you. Is that better?” Wataru beams innocently up at Natsume, fluttering his long lashes. Sternly, he sends his body another reminder that it is entirely under his mind’s control, and that reactions to a lovely young man straddling him are unwanted.

 

Natsume huffs. “No.” He sits up, hiking his skirts up a bit more to settle more comfortably over Wataru. “I don’t want you to leave,” he adds suddenly. “And I don’t want to listen to Lord Rei. We’ll do something else, or you’ll take me with you, that’s how it is.”

 

“Very well, I’ll stay with you.” Wataru lets his hands move then, tugging Natsume’s skirts down, unsure exactly how much longer he can keep his body entirely under control. “We’ll do it together, then, if this is what you want.”

 

It’s a lie, a complete one. He’ll leave as soon as Natsume falls asleep, but if this is the only way he can put a smile on Nastume’s face, it’s what he’ll do.

 

“Don’t _lie_ to me.”

 

Natsume slaps Wataru’s hands away as he lurches forward, planting his own hands to either side of Wataru’s head. “I’m not some _child_ that you can just say things to,” he lowly says. “I won’t just _believe_ you for the hell of it. I know you’re going to leave me, no matter what I say, and I _hate_ that.”

 

Wataru spreads his hands, helplessly looking up. “What can I say? I just want you to smile, kitten. Seeing you unhappy is enough to make me spin all sorts of tall tales.”

 

“You can make me smile.” Natsume glowers down at him all the same, the loosened tail of his hair tumbling forward to fall around both his face and Wataru’s. “You could say things like, ‘I’ll come back for you, and we’ll keep traveling the world’, or…or ‘before I leave, I’ll make sure y-you…’…” He falters, voice wavering, and he huffs, glancing aside when his cheeks flush. “My point is, you’re bad at this.”

 

“Too right.” Wataru laughs, self-deprecation heavy in the sound. “I suppose I still can’t quite fathom my presence being used as a reward or an incentive. Usually, my absence is the reward that people crave.”

 

His hand moves without his approval, reaching up to cup Natsume’s face. His mind’s iron control weakens a bit and he tries to get it back, chest rising and falling faster now. “You should send me away,” he whispers. “Before you decide I’m too much to deal with.”

 

“No, you’re wrong.” Natsume lifts his hand, splaying it over Wataru’s, his fingers curling to dig his nails in. “The opposite. There’s not _enough_ of you,” he murmurs, tightening his grasp, refusing to let Wataru drag his hand away. “If there was ten times as much, that would be better. You keep…you keep running.”

 

“Of course. If I hold still long enough, my mind might catch up.” Wataru blinks rapidly, mildly appalled at himself for being so transparent. “And then I’d have to deal with all my thoughts, and who wants such a thing? I...”

 

Another crack appears in his control, not just over his body, but his mind as well. Otherwise, why would he be moving? Why would he be rolling them, his hair spilling down around them, his mouth moving to brush lightly, hesitantly against Natsume’s. His pulse flutters weakly in protest, but something else is taking over him, making him act the way his emotions urge.

 

Natsume blinks rapidly, and his chest heaves within the confines of his corset before he can stop it. His mind immediately _goes_ , thinking back to the flashes of what he’s Seen before—Wataru’s mouth, his hands, his fingers sinking into flesh, his hair sticking to sweat-slick skin—

 

He thinks less, acts more, and fists his hands into Wataru’s hair as he surges up, his mouth pressing hot to Wataru’s before he can utter one more protest.

 

The hot, wet lash of Natsume’s tongue along his lip makes Wataru melt. He nibbles on Natsume’s bottom lip, helplessly allowing himself to indulge. “Kitten,” he breathes, knees planting into the mattress, straddling Natsume’s voluminous skirts, pinning him down to the bed. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he would say-- _I’m fire, don’t get burned, everyone who loves me dies, I’d rather eat glass than see any harm happen to you_ \--but none of those words can compare to the taste of Natsume on his tongue.

 

Natsume shivers hard, the nickname alone more than enough to spread warmth through his limbs. His legs kick a little underneath Wataru’s weight, _pleased_ , and he arches his back, his long nails dragging through Wataru’s hair, into the back of his neck and his shoulders as he licks his way into Wataru’s mouth, sucking on his tongue. “I’ll be your kitten,” he whispers, breaking away from Wataru’s mouth with a hot, wet gasp. “Master…don’t leave me, not tonight.”

 

“Don’t believe anything I say,” Wataru whispers, unable to lie right now, even if he wanted to. He moves his head, nipping at Natsume’s ear, fixing his mouth to that long, pale neck. “But let me take care of you tonight. Tell me what you want, kitten, I’ll give you all of it until the light comes up.”

 

 _Are you sure? Is this all right? If you’re thinking of someone else, if you give me a chance to think about Him, I’ll_ —

 

Natsume’s eyes flutter shut, and he licks at his lips, forcing his own troublesome mind to shut up. “I w-want…I want to feel like you’ve eaten me alive, like there’s no way I can be without you again,” he groans, managing to untangle one hand from Wataru’s hair and paw at whatever lacing and fastening he can reach on Wataru’s clothing. “L-like there’s finally _enough_ of you.”

 

_Enough? As if there isn’t always too much?_

 

“I’m grateful for the lie,” Wataru says, a corner of his mouth quirking. His hands dart down, and he unravels Natsume’s corset in a blink, his skill at slight of hand making it faster than any human ever could. “Ah...stop me at any time,” he breathes, not trusting himself but needing to promise it all the same, because the boy under him is nothing like anything he’s ever touched.

 

His own hands have always been something hard and cold, glass and stone, as apt to destroy as to cause pleasure. The only men he’s ever been with have been--

 

_\--unbreakable--_

 

_\--inhuman--_

 

A tiny twitch echoes down Wataru’s brow, but Natsume is unlike that man in every way, warm and clutching and so fragile it makes Wataru’s heart ache. One of his hands steals down to Natsume’s thigh, squeezing and stroking. “I want you...” He wants to say more, but what else matters?

 

“It’s not a liiiie,” Natsume groans, his lashes fluttering wildly when the stupid, _troublesome_ vision that’s been plaguing him for years on end finally rears its head. Wataru’s hand on his thigh makes his breath hiccup, his cock suddenly, _achingly_ hard, and he whines, squirming to splay his legs apart more, reaching his hands down to grab for the hems of his skirts and pull them up further. Even with his corset strings loosened, he still can’t entirely catch his breath, and he stares up at Wataru with ruddy cheeks. “I’ve…seen this for almost three years,” he whispers, licking at his parted lips. “B-but it’s so much more like this…”

 

Wataru blinks, taking that in. For years? Natsume has seen this, has known that they’d wind up here, and has been anticipating it?

 

Wataru lets his hands slide down, gripping Natsume’s waist, fingers gripping deep. “Is that why?” he asks softly, kissing Natsume again. “Do you think we must, because you’ve seen it? I don’t know how your visions work, kitten, but I’m happy to play any role.”

 

“That’s not how it works,” Natsume mumbles, lurching up to kiss Wataru back, his mouth wet and hungry as his teeth catch against Wataru’s lower lip. He shivers, squirming underneath the hold to his waist, his toes curling, and his fingers drag down, yanking at Wataru’s laces. “I just—mnn, I don’t have control over what I see, or what happens, but I…I _wanted this_ , I can’t help it…”

 

“You can’t help it?”

 

Wataru pauses, bringing one hand up to Natsume’s cheek, gently stroking the skin there. “Neither can I,” he admits, voice hushed. “I’ve been...” _Trying not to want this for weeks._ “You’re very beautiful, you know. And your talent shines so brightly.”

 

Natsume sags down with a whimper, butting his flushed face into Wataru’s hand. “Then you can’t _not_ do this,” he groans, mouthing a kiss to the inside of Wataru’s wrist. “Master…nnn, _Wataru_ , I’m an indulgence, so _indulge_ in me.”

 

“I’ve never done this with anyone so small,” Wataru says, voice hushed, carefully turning Natsume onto his side, all to better strip the voluminous skirts and corset off of him, tossing them to the floor. He nuzzles into the soft, sensitive skin at the back of Natsume’s neck, feeling the supple young strength in him, the hard planes, his hand running over him from hip to shoulder to chest. “Just blast me away if I do anything you don’t like, I’d prefer it.”

 

“Impossible,” Natsume grumbles, shivering down to his toes and pulling his hair forward, out of the way of Wataru’s mouth. “It’s fun because I’m small, I’m bendy, I’m…nnn…I’m your kitty, right?” He twists, reaching back to latch onto a handful of Wataru’s hair, his fingers trembling. “Make me feel good.”

 

“Of course you’re my kitty,” Wataru rumbles, pitching his voice low, husky, spooning up behind Natsume and grabbing his hips, dragging them back against Wataru’s. He understands the role a little more the farther he goes on, improvising, basing his actions on Natsume’s reactions, hand curling around to stroke Natsume’s cock. “A kitty in heat, perhaps? Come here, let me stroke your tail.”

 

Natsume melts with a long, lingering shudder. He wriggles back, his breath catching up in his throat when he can really _feel_ the warmth, the solidness of Wataru behind him, the strength and breadth of his chest, and exactly how _hard_ Wataru’s cock is, pressed into the curve of his ass when he squirms. “Y-you’ve been…been neglecting me,” he exhales, trembling when just the touch of Wataru’s hand makes his cock twitch. “That’s not faiiir.”

 

“Neglecting? No, no, just...”

 

Wataru nips at Natsume’s neck, rocking up to grind against the sweet curve of Natsume’s ass. His other hand rubs across Natsume’s stomach, up to his chest, plucking and rolling one nipple. “Everyone knows you don’t let a kitten breed on her first heat,” he murmurs, low in Natsume’s ear. “And you squirm so deliciously. I want to take a bite.” He does, out of Natsume’s shoulder, teeth rasping against the soft skin.

 

“Nnnhhh…” The noise is barely bitten back, broken and throaty as Natsume turns his face into a pillow. The cool fabric makes his face feel even hotter, somehow, and his nipples immediately harden underneath the pull of Wataru’s fingers, achingly hard as he arches forward into the touch. “K-keep doing that, and I’ll make a mess,” Natsume whimpers, reaching a desperate hand back to grab for whatever part of Wataru he can sink his fingers into, trying to keep him closer, get him closer, _anything_.

 

“You like being nibbled?” Wataru’s teeth flash, nipping at Natsume’s ear, his neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, varying the strength of the nips from gentle to an intense bite, though he still doesn’t break the skin. “Just from that, kitten?” he teases, rubbing his thumb over the tip of Natsume’s cock, relishing the feel of it in the palm of his hand. “I’d love to see how many times I can make you come before the sun rises.”

 

Natsume bites into his own hand, barely in time to shut himself up as he spills with a grateful jerk of his cock against Wataru’s hand. His mewl is a ragged one, his eyes wildly fluttering as he drips over Wataru’s fingers, his chest heaving, and his entire body trembling, far from interested in stopping.

 

“T-the…the way you call me kitten…makes me so hard,” he rasps, flopping back against Wataru, pointedly wriggling back, his breath hiccuping as he rubs back against Wataru’s cock. “Please…don’t stop…”

 

“I’m not stopping,” Wataru assures him, sucking on the lobe of Natsume’s ear, feeling it smooth beneath his teeth. His hands splay out on Natsume’s hips, long fingers digging into the skin. At the same time, his hips rock, rubbing his cock over the curve of Natsume’s ass, the head dragging against the small of his back with every long thrust. “Tell me about what you love, kitten. Show me how to make you squirm.”

 

Natsume groans out through his teeth, and he twists, rolling partially forward as he grabs back, trying to grab for Wataru’s hair as pull him with him, on top of him. His blood thrums fast, his cock aching and sensitive as it rubs down into his own wet spot on the bed. “In me,” he demands shakily. “Put it in me. You said I’m a cat in heat, r-right? So take _care_ of me…”

 

Wataru feels a qualm of misgiving. Natsume is so _young_ , their age difference far more than it appears. He’s also so fragile, so trusting, but...

 

_Well, then I’ll just have to strive not to hurt him._

 

Wataru has never been very good at gentleness in the past, delighting in his devilments, enjoying hearing people complain and struggle against him, but Natsume is pliable, Natsume is urging him on, Natsume is _demanding_.

 

He plants his knees on the bed, and yanks Natsume’s hips up off the bed, leaving his chest and face pressed against the mattress. Reaching around, he slides his fingers into Natsume’s mouth, delving against his tongue. “Make them nice and wet, kitten. I haven’t any oil.”

 

Natsume shudders visibly, all the way down to his toes, and a wet groan escapes out around Wataru’s fingers as he sucks them into his mouth, his tongue lapping at those long fingers, messily slicking them with every slide. His cock is already achingly hard again, and every twitch makes him squirm, oversensitive and overstimulated just with the _idea_ of Wataru in him. His chest heaves, and his fingers knead into the bed before one comes up to grab Wataru’s wrist as he tilts his head up, sucking greedily, the overeager scrape of his teeth almost bringing him to bite.

 

“Are you going to come twice before I even get in you?” Wataru rumbles, amused. He licks the edge of Natsume’s ear, tongue flicking out a bit longer than normal for a human before he catches it. When his fingers are properly wet, he pulls them out, shifting to dip them inside of Natsume’s hot, tight hole, two at first. His fingers are nice and long, sliding in deep, and he murmurs, “Will this be enough? How much can you take, I wonder...”

 

Natsume’s back arches with a ragged breath, his burning face buried back into the bed as he wriggles back against Wataru’s hand. It’s tense, achy, a slick stretch that makes him pant shallowly, and he bites his lip to stifle another, breathy noise as he clenches down. “I-it’s…it’s been so loooong…” he groans, his legs trembling, even as he tries to squirm and splay his legs further apart. “I can’t…I can’t make it feel good w-when I do it myself, even if I’m t-thinking…about you…ahhh..all the time…”

 

 _Why?_ Wataru wants to ask, but no, this isn’t the time for that. Fortunately for his mental state, Natsume is so completely unlike Eichi that the comparison hardly exists, and he nuzzles into Natsume’s hair, kissing each strand, as tenderly as he’s ever done anything.

 

 _He wants this tonight,_ he thinks, letting his body be consumed with lust even as there’s a melancholy in his mind. His fingers dip and twist, curling and stroking inside the beautiful young man. _At least I can give him tonight._ “And so far, kitten, is it everything you dreamed of?”

 

A hissing breath escapes from Natsume’s clenched teeth when Wataru’s fingers stroke inside and make his hips jerk, his fingers fisting into the coverlet. “M-maybe,” he huffs, lifting a trembling hand to shove his hair back from his flushed face. “It will be when you start feeling good with me. Put it _in_ , you can do whatever you want to me, I _want_ you to—“

 

“Shhh, patience, patience.” Wataru’s fingers spread apart, but it’s still _tight_ , enough to make him wish he had some of his favorite aromatic oils. “Truly a kitten in heat, I think...”

 

He nips at Natsume’s neck again, working a third finger in. “I love to play with you, indulge me a bit. I’ve waited quite a while, you know, so let me enjoy you at my own pace.”

 

Natsume’s breath hiccups, and his head thumps back down. “You’ve…you’ve w-wanted this too, right?” Wataru’s fingers spreading apart takes his breath away, and he swallows noisily, feeling the sweat drip down his spine. “Nnn…t-that’s…that’s a lot…you…ah…I’m…”

 

Balancing carefully, Wataru grabs Natsume’s other hand, dragging it back to wrap those slender fingers around the thickness of his cock. “I can change my voice, kitten, but I can’t change my size,” he murmurs, turning his hand to drag over something hidden and lovely deep inside. “I don’t want to hurt you when I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long.”

 

Natsume’s mouth goes dry. Wataru is _so_ hard and heavy in his hand, and his fingers squeeze down shakily against his will. He hears a low, whimpering, breathless whine, and realizes that’s probably him, especially when he can’t _help_ but grind back against those searching fingers that feel _so_ damned good. “It’s…you…y-you won’t hurt me, ah, g-gods, _pleeease…”_

 

 _It’s not as big as him_ , his mind feels the need to remind him, and Natsume’s chest heaves. “I’ll die if you’re not in me,” he whimpers, twisting his head back to stare up at Wataru through the sweaty fall of his bangs. “You’re mine now, because I said so.”

 

“Shh.”

 

Wataru pulls his fingers out, turning Natsume’s head to kiss him deeply, holding him close. “Calm, my sweet. I’ll give you everything you want, just breathe.”

 

He aligns himself, guiding the head of his cock to Natsume’s hole, pausing to kiss him again. “In and out. Your chest is so lovely,” he murmurs, fingers creeping in to stroke, then pinch at one pink nipple. “Let it rise and fall as I slide into you.”

 

Natsume melts down with a whimpering little huff, his eyes fluttering when he’s kissed. Just the heat of Wataru’s cock pressing against him makes him shiver, and it’s _hard_ to relax when he’s so wound up, when he wants it so _badly_. His vision swims, _daring_ to try and shift to things only seen by him, now _, of all times_ , and he grabs for handfuls of the silvery-blue hair tumbling over him to ground himself. “Please,” he groans again, rasping and throaty, the faked, girlish pitch to his voice entirely gone in his need. “Wataru, I…”

 

That last invocation of his name steals the last of Wataru’s self-control. He tries to move gently, but he can’t stop himself from pressing inside, face buried in Natsume’s hair, breathing him in with a low, panting groan. “Natsume,” he breathes, mind forgetting nicknames, forgetting what role he’s supposed to be playing. Magic swirls around them, and he doesn’t bother to care, only caring about Natsume in his arms, about how long it’s been, about how he makes Natsume _writhe_.

 

Wataru _fits_ inside of him. It aches, it’s tense and it could be slicker, but he _fits_ , long and thick and filling him up entirely, until he swears he can taste Wataru on his tongue. Natsume sags into the bed, his knees spreading further apart on the bed as he rocks back with a trembling moan, his cock dripping between his legs. “Wataru,” he whispers, still clutching at Wataru’s hair. “Y-you’re…that’s so _good_ …”

 

The sweet plea from Natsume’s lips bolsters Wataru’s confidence, his determination. He rocks in deeply, working himself in a little more each time, feeling the heat of their bodies melt and change, something alchemical between them. _I should have known,_ Wataru thinks, laughing at himself a little as he kisses, strokes, rocks deeply, touching Natsume as intimately as he can. _I should have--_

 

Even Eichi hadn’t really understood what Wataru is at the end of the day. Wataru is certain that Natsume doesn’t either, even as their magic trickles into each other, raising both of them to new, dizzying heights. “Feel that, kitten?” he rumbles, feeling Natsume’s tight, sweet stretch around him.

 

“Uh…huh,” Natsume breathlessly manages, rubbing his face down into the bed, biting his lip when the vice-tight grip he _always_ tries to keep on his own magic starts to falter more and more. It’s always too slippery, too much for him to cling to, but now it’s even worse, and he shudders, his vision glazing over. He wriggles his way back mindlessly, panting open-mouthed when he _hears_ skin slap together as much as feels it. Wataru’s cock rubs inside of him so far, so _deep_ that he can barely breathe, and somehow, it’s still almost secondary to the way Wataru just feels pressing down against him, both physically and magically.

 

The gentle rocking of their bodies together can’t, _doesn’t_ last. Wataru shifts his weight, bearing Natsume down to the bed, his weight pinning Natsume down. It’s still too-tight, but he’s so hard he’s aching, and the urgent dripping of his cock makes it slicker and sweeter with every thrust. “I--”

 

_Want to eat you._

 

He won’t. He’s better than that now. But he still indulges himself, lets himself not just nibble, but bite, stopping just short of breaking the skin. He’s careful with every inhale, ever-conscious that he has the ability to breathe in Natsume’s magic with the air, resisting his natural impulses with every motion. “We’re making something beautiful,” he whispers. “Open your eyes, look at the colors.”

 

Opening his eyes is easier said than done, when even focusing on _words_ is hard. His cock jumps, the arch of his spine and the splay of his legs making him tremble, making his toes curl as he struggles for some sort of purchase to arch back, but now, the way Wataru pins him just makes him _take it_ , and that’s so…so _satisfying_.

 

Dimly, Natsume thinks Wataru’s teeth feel too-sharp, but his shoulder rolls underneath the bite all the same, a hiccuping groan leaving his lips as he yanks on Wataru’s hair. The mix of blue and red and violet and white swims in front of his vision, clouding everything else he could be Seeing, and that’s a relief right now, when all he wants to think about is how _good_ everything feels. _Not human_ , his mind feels the need to point out, but that just makes his cock twitch again, dripping steadily now. “You’re mine,” he pants out, writhing against the bed, feeling the rasp of the sheets against his nipples, the way his cock won’t _stop_ aching no matter how it feels like he’s come ten times over now, “so you…nhh…should turn me…into your feast.”

 

“Don’t say that.”

 

Wataru’s voice is a suddenly hoarse, urgent croak, as the words, the _permission_ , starts to drag his nature out. He grits his teeth, his whole body stilling for a moment as he forces it still, heart no longer thudding, every bit of him that pretends to be human freezing.

 

A tense, strange moment passes, and magic lashes out of him, binding with Natsume’s, blending into something _alive_. Expelling that magic is a relief, letting Wataru’s human form take over once more, though it leaves him trembling, shaken, holding Natsume as closely as possible, bodies still entwined. “Are you--did I hurt you?”

 

Natsume hears his own pulse thudding, his own breath rattling in his throat, and he shakes his head slowly, clinging still to Wataru’s hair and refusing to let him go. “N…no,” he whispers, his eyes wide, dilated as he partially twists underneath Wataru to look back at him. The edges of his own magic feel somewhat raw, overstimulated as much as his own physical body, and he exhales a shuddering breath. “That kind of…felt good.”

 

Wataru hesitantly strokes Natsume’s hair, brushing the damp strands back from his face, kissing his cheek with all the kindness he can muster. “To me, also,” he confesses, eyes too-bright, still achingly hard inside Natsume. “Here, climb with me, I’ll bring us both home safe.”

 

With that, he starts to rock again, though his kisses are lips-only now, not trusting himself to think about consuming right now.

 

Natsume slinks down with a breathy sigh, trying to focus on the way Wataru feels inside of him, the heat and strength and—

 

_No, more, more._

 

He growls, shifting, twisting again as his body thrums, restless, overeager. “Roll me over,” he orders breathlessly. “Wataru…I’m gonna eat _you_ if you can’t eat _me_.”

 

Wataru moves fast, but not to roll over, pinning Natsume’s shoulders down to the bed with iron strength. “Not tonight, kitten. Just enjoy this, I won’t risk you, and I’m not strong enough to stop myself if something goes wrong.”

 

Natsume’s squeak is muffled into the mattress, and he struggles against that hold for a moment, just to _test it_. It’s useless, of course, and that just makes him ache. “T-then just _fuck me_ ,” he groans, his nails like claws as he rakes them into the coverlet. “I want you to, _please_ …”

 

Wataru’s laugh is a rich, dark chuckle as he thrusts in hard, as hard as he can trust himself to safely do, working Natsume sweetly over with every movement. “I have to watch myself around you,” he murmurs, feeling his skin tighten, heat pooling, swelling inside him as he approaches the edge, determined to bring Natsume with him. His hand steals down, stroking over Natsume’s cock as they rock together, riling him into a frenzy. “If I lose control for even a second, you’ll make a meal of me, won’t you?”

 

Natsume clings to the only thing he can—those strands of Wataru’s hair tumbling down over him, sticking to his sweaty skin, tangled around his fingers as he twists and arches. Inside, Wataru is definitely too much—too big, too hard, leaking now and making Natsume gasp for breath when he shoves in deep. Outside, even his hand is too much, and Natsume’s cock throbs, dripping over those long fingers.

 

If he could sink his teeth into any part of Wataru right now, he _would._

 

His eyes crack open, and just the sight of his own magic trying to spill over and cling to Wataru’s again makes him twitch, shudder, and lose himself with a broken noise, coming over Wataru’s hand and onto the bed. _This is different, this is so different, a vision couldn’t have shown me any of this, I_ —those words stick in his throat, and he sags, shuddering, biting into the coverlet.

 

 _If it all goes wrong,_ Wataru thinks dimly, spilling deep into Natsume’s pliant body, filling him with spurt after spurt, holding him tightly, _at least he’s had an amazing night._

 

Shuddering, damp with sweat and languid with pleasure, he curls around Natsume’s prone form, rolling onto his side to hold him close without crushing him. “You survive all of that, kitten?” he rumbles, lashes fluttering closed against Natsume’s cheek.

 

For a moment, Natsume breathes heavily, his head lolling back against Wataru’s shoulder. Then—“Do it again,” he says, turning his head to sink his teeth into Wataru’s shoulder.

 

That startles a laugh out of Wataru, and he nips playfully at Natsume’s ear, tucking his hair behind his ear on the other side. “Mm, and what are _you_ under the skin, with stamina like that?”

 

“I’m a cat. Maybe a cat demon, what if I was?” Natsume’s eyes glitter, and he nuzzles up underneath Wataru’s chin. “What _are_ you?” he breathes. “I always knew you were something, but—tell me, _tell me_ , look at how our magic reacts…”

 

Wataru lifts a hand, then twines his fingers around Natsume’s. Carefully, he breathes out, letting his magic swirl around Natsume’s, the residual magic that bleeds off of a wizard as powerful as a Nightcloak like fumes. Everywhere they touch, the magic sparks, twines, and morphs into something amorphous, something shimmering and oddly visible. “That’s your homework while I’m gone,” he decides. “Discover what I am, and I’ll come back to you.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Natsume growls, even as he squeezes Wataru’s hand tightly, his eyes tracing and tracking the magic with intense interest. “You should just tell me and then you can come back and chew on me.”

 

Wataru presses a kiss to Natsume’s temple. “If you want a master who will simply tell you things instead of letting you investigate on your own, I have many to recommend,” he says cheerfully. “But none of them are in this bed right now.”

 

Natsume’s lips purse, and he lurches up, snapping his teeth gently against the line of Wataru’s jaw. “Fine,” he grouses, but he doesn’t sound entirely displeased about it. “At least that’ll be something _interesting_ to look into while you’re gone. But I want you to know, I’m very displeased that you’re leaving when I’m _finally_ satisfied for the first time in years. Take more responsibility.”

 

“Of course. As soon as I return.” Wataru snakes an arm around Natsume’s waist, and squeezes tightly. “And you’ve had enough time to rethink your foolish decision to share my bed.”

 

“Not foolish,” Natsume mumbles, snuggling back, refusing to let even a centimeter form between them. “The best. Perfect.”

 

Wataru tugs the heavy furs over both of them, weighting them both down. “Well, kitten, you know my one rule. As long as you aren’t tired of me, I’ll stay.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Ma~o.”

 

Even given the chance to leave the Academy, Mao still didn’t take it. He regrets that often, especially when their very own Emperor smiles at him now, obvious stress marring the edges of that intense, red-eyed stare.

 

Being Ritsu’s bonded should mean a bit of freedom from obligation to others, but if anything, being Ritsu’s bonded makes Rei feel _more_ entitled to his time, and that much more proprietary as well. ‘Annoying’ doesn’t quite begin to cover it, and Mao feels his mouth twist, the stacks of parchment he had been previously filing now ignored.

 

“I have a job for you.” And before Mao can open his mouth to protest, Rei raises a finger with another smile. “And Ritsu has already approved it, so you can’t say no.”

 

And that’s how Mao discovers that the Sandlands’ winters are still, unfortunately, intensely warm.

 

Rei claims to be friends with the brothel’s madam, but being ‘friends’ with Rei, Mao knows, is a very loose term. The woman doesn’t seem concerned that the Emperor of the Academy himself delivers him, but she does seem concerned with _him_ , or rather, overly excited. “He really is from the Northeast?” she asks, grasping Mao’s chin, turning his head side to side. Her skin is old, wrinkled, and deeply tanned, but she, just like the establishment, is surprisingly clean, except for the lingering scent of her own hair oils on her painted fingernails.

 

“He looks it, doesn’t he?” Rei mildly says. He’s dressed for the weather and the setting with pale linen nearly trying to fall off of him, and his hair tied back from his face. “Especially with those eyes.”

 

She grunts, and tosses a bag of gold into Rei’s chest. “Good. Competition is growing.”

 

“Milord—“

 

“Uh uh,” Rei says with a sweet smile, silencing Mao with a wave of his hand as he turns his back, purse full. “You answer to her now.”

 

Sometimes, the startling _resemblance_ between the two brothers—Rei’s deliberately flippant attitude about this, Ritsu’s eagerness to see him dressed up, in _his words_ , ‘like a slut’—is grating.

 

All dealings aside, the woman _does_ seem to know that he’s there less to work and make money as a prostitute (thank the gods) and far more to investigate and be Rei’s eyes (as per usual, as if nothing changed after his damned takeover of the Academy). “Three doors down,” Rei had told him on the ride to the Sandlands, “there will be another brothel. And in that brothel is my little bird, and occasionally, my consort, who _insists_ on being a part of this.”

 

The words had been more than enough to make Mao go entirely still. “I see.”

 

“If I tell you to move to help them, you do it.”

 

 _Once a spy, always a spy_ , Mao wearily thinks, and at the end of day three, scribbling away his findings for the day in a piece of parchment, a knock comes at his door before it swings open. “Good,” the madam sniffs, “you’re dressed. Come downstairs.”

 

Dressed is a _hilarious_ word for being draped in silk definitely too see-thru, and with clinking, shimmery little bits and pieces of chain and beadwork that’s more a nuisance than anything. Mao had attempted to argue that he’s _honestly_ not the person for this job, why not just let Mika do it, he’s obviously, ah, skilled, but trying to argue that without causing offense had turned ugly, very quickly, and risking Rei’s already on-edge temper had been ill-advised. He spares a glance into a mirror, sighing as he unpins his hair and begrudgingly stashes his notes before making his way out of the room and down the stairs.

 

“You wanted Northern boys? I have them, here.”

 

Mao turns the corner, lifts his head, and tries not to react. Surely, this is a new level that _no other spy_ should ever have to deal with—keeping his face impassive, keeping himself entirely calm and collected when it isn’t just some customer he has to fumble his way through, but _Keito_ , in the flesh, right in front of him.

 

_Honestly, fuck you, Rei._

 

It takes more training, more skill, and more determination than Keito has ever needed in his life to keep his face neutral.

 

 _Fuck you, Rei,_ he thinks wearily. He feels the fuzzy prickling at the back of his eyes that usually means that he’s about to pass out, but he needs to stay clear, stay focused, stay alert.

 

His mind races, and he feels like an old, doddering fool. Surely, there’s a way to get out of this nonsense. This is Rei’s fault.

 

Then again, Rei _hadn’t_ told him which brothel to go to, just to start working his way through. It is possible, however unlikely, that he hadn’t known this would happen. Still, though...

 

He turns his nose up, refusing to let his eyes sweep down over elegant limbs, taut skin, exposed--

 

“I don’t like red hair,” he says, floundering for anything, _anything_ that will get the boy sent away.

 

It would be too much to expect to be sent away at that. His madam rolls her eyes and looks over to Mao expectantly, who takes a solid few seconds to react. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

 

 _“If you blow your cover,”_ Rei had not-so-nicely warned him, _“you’re killing what’s mine. Keep that in mind.”_

 

Honestly, Rei could have just threatened him that _people will die_. Knowing that it’s Mika and _Shu_ just makes Mao nervous all over again, bringing him sharply back to the days of following at their heels at every single turn, enduring Shu’s snarls and demands atop whatever Rei had already requested of him. Nerves, however, make Mao stop thinking, and start acting instead, because that’s the only reason why he’s survived _this_ long.

 

“You won’t mind it in the dark, Milord,” he murmurs, bowing his head as he steps forward and reaches for Keito’s hand. “I promise you.”

 

“New patrons try out our wares here,” the madam says, and drags up a chair for Keito. “Payment afterward.”

 

 _Seriously?_ Mao wearily thinks, and he bites down a sigh, pulling Keito to the chair. “If you would, Milord…”

 

The buzzing doesn’t go away. Keito feels panic rising. Mao is more than his subordinate--Mao has been his ward since he was a child, Mao is the closest thing he has to a _son_ , there’s no way, even when he’s under orders, no way that he can possibly--

 

_No way to break cover._

 

He’s spent over a decade putting this cover together. He has contacts, he has an entire private life down here. There are _thousands_ of lives on the line, and just the Madam’s insistence that there are plenty of Northern boys around here these days lets him know that the problem is _here_.

 

He sits heavily, looking into Mao’s eyes, trying to find some clue from him, some way to get them both out of this. He opens his mouth to protest that this boy is too old, but the idea that she’ll bring him someone younger is distasteful in the extreme, so he simply looks down, mind caught in the gears, not working at all as he stares dumbly.

 

Mao sucks in a quick little breath, glancing up to meet Keito’s gaze for a moment before he simply drops to his knees in front of him, because, well. What _else_ is there to do?

 

Now isn’t the time to focus on the obvious _issues_ with all of this, or how Rei will _absolutely_ skin him alive if he screws this up. “My apologies if I’m not to your taste, Milord,” Mao murmurs, pleased that his hands aren’t shaking when he reaches for Keito’s laces. It isn’t as if he’s never given a blowjob before…even if this is a blowjob for his teacher, his mentor… “But I promise I’ll make you rethink that. Just…relax, if you would?”

 

There’s definitely something in the perfume of this place. Keito faintly recognizes opiates hanging thick and heavy in the air, making him feel deliciously slow and sinful. If Mao had hesitated, looked nervous, Keito probably would have turned and fled.

 

But Mao’s hands are steady, his eyes unflinching, and Keito’s mind swims. Something dark flares at the back of his eyes, a part of him that has wanted this for years. Not forever, certainly not, but since Mao was--

 

 _Twenty-three_ , he privately admits to himself. It turns his stomach with guilt even as his cock flushes harder than it’s ever been, even before Mao’s hands get his laces open. It’s painful, and he likes it, though he stops himself from reaching for Mao’s hair, letting his hands curl on the arms of his chair instead. “Go on, then,” he says hoarsely.

 

Mao’s fingers drag between Keito’s legs before curling into his laces, and his eyebrows tick upwards. _Hard as a rock, sir? Really?_ His eyes flick upwards briefly, but he thinks the better of meeting Keito’s gaze. He doesn’t quite have the nerve for that, especially when there’s half a dozen reasons for this—the situation itself just being outright odd, the drugs, the need to fake their way through this…

 

Part of being such a good spy, however, means that this _has_ to be a lot less fake than it really should be, so it’s time for his mind to shut up.

 

With those laces unraveled, Mao’s fingers immediately wrap around Keito’s cock, and heshifts forward onto his knees, dragging the head of it to his mouth. His tongue flicks out, swiping long and wet over the tip, and that first taste makes him shiver. He pushes his hair back behind his ears as he sucks the head into his mouth, and his cheeks flush as he grabs for one of Keito’s hands, urging it into his hair.

 

Ah.

 

Within a moment, Keito can tell that this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly.

 

He isn’t usually hair-trigger, but with how worked up he is and how hot and wet Mao’s mouth is around him, it’s all he can do to curl the fingers of one hand around the chair’s arm, breathing deeply. Even his fingernails dig into the wood. But for his other hand, twisting in the deep crimson strands of Mao’s hair, he lets them drag down, stroking gently, fondly through the strands. He nearly slips, nearly says the boy’s name, but catches himself just in time, transmuting it into a deep groan. His cock leaks hard over Mao’s lips, and just the _thought_ of it makes him shudder wordlessly.

 

It’s not like Mao doesn’t _enjoy_ this, and that’s…somewhat troublesome. His cock twitches between his legs, and he shifts, ignoring it as he sucks Keito down, letting his cock rub further down along his tongue. Keito’s fingers distract him, dragging along his scalp, and Mao swallows too much of him too fast, his throat giving a spasm of protest when the head of Keito’s cock bumps against the back of it.

 

_“Heehh, you’re really cute when you gag like that, Maa~o.”_

 

Mao shudders, blinking hard when his eyes water and he swallows, looking up through his wet lashes with Keito’s cock buried between his lips. It’s not Ritsu, it’s not…anyone else that he sees, but Keito—and the fact that the sight of his mentor is what makes his cock ache makes his face hot.

 

Keito would already be close to the edge, just from the dark, repressed fact that he’s wanted this and hated himself for wanting this. He’s already on edge from the idea of what he’s doing, and the sweet wet heat of Mao’s mouth. But when Mao looks up at him like that, with wide, familiar eyes, and ruddy cheeks--

 

Keito claps a hand over his mouth as he groans, flooding Mao’s mouth so full that a bit of it spills over his lips, and that sight makes Keito’s cock twitch again, a last spurt onto Mao’s tongue. _Sorry_ , he wants to say, even as his hand strokes over the boy’s cheek, feeling every bit the disgusting old man he’s pretending to be.

 

The Madam shifts, and Keito scrambles to remember his cover, breaking eye contact at last to nod at her. “The first one of this hair color I’ve ever found satisfactory,” he manages, though it sounds embarrassingly weak to his ears.

 

Mao pulls back, trying not to swallow too noisily, and ultimately failing. That shouldn’t make him _quite_ as aroused as it does, but he can blame a great deal of that by being in-character, right? _Right_ , he weakly decides, gingerly wiping at his mouth. “I’m…glad that was to your taste, Milord,” he whispers, and he licks at his lips again—a mistake, because the taste is still there, and he squirms where he kneels. “Perhaps—perhaps we should continue upstairs?”

 

“Payment first,” the Madam sweetly cuts in, rising from her chair. “House rules, you see. Three gold nobles, to start.”

 

 _Nice, I’m pricey—I think? Is that something to be pleased about? Fuck you, Rei._ Mao painstakingly pulls himself to his feet, glancing carefully to Keito.

 

For a moment, a _much too long_ moment, Keito considers accepting the offer as-is, dragging Mao upstairs, and having him over and over until dawn. The sudden lust is enough to make his cock stay hard, and hell, at least that’s in character.

 

He grasps after the ragged ends of his mind, and thankfully catches them. He stands, tucking himself into his trousers, and pulls out his purse. “Madam,” he says, carefully counting out coins, “If this is the quality of your goods, my appetite is whetted more thoroughly than I thought. I’ll go upstairs.” He counts out three gold nobles into her hand without haggling, then jingles his remaining coins, as if completely casual about it. “Procure me additional company from the same stock, and send him up after. Oh, and younger.” He says it off-hand, but his chances of getting _another_ spy are lower if he makes such a casual stipulation.

 

The Madam nods, her eyes fixed on Keito’s coin pouch. “As you wish, Milord,” she says, tucking the coins away. “And no more redheads, I presume.”

 

“I’ll sate his need of redheads,” Mao softly says, reaching out to take Keito’s hand and draw him towards the stairs. “Come with me, Milord. It seems as though you’re not yet satisfied with me.”

 

His legs wobble as he draws Keito up the stairs, but he holds it together until they’re in his room and he shuts the door firmly behind them. Mao shudders, sagging back against it, shutting his eyes. If he doesn’t look, maybe he can get himself together and not think about Keito being hard, again, and how _he’s_ hard _still._ “Of course you’d be sent down here, too,” he manages. “Of _course.”_

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Keito says, because that sounds more constructive than falling to his knees to apologize. He turns away, taking a deep breath, and sets his jaw. “He didn’t give me any hint, if you want to know. I’m probably _actually_ going to kill him.”

 

Beneath the sheer film of anger, Keito’s chest is tangled in distress, anxious that Mao will hate him, be disgusted with him.

 

“I guessed, judging by your reaction,” Mao says with a ragged little laugh, and he forces himself away from the door, bending down to rip off one, jangling anklet that he’s already pre-forged into a silencing charm. Pulling it off activates it, and he hangs it on the lock, relaxing slightly. “It’s fine—it’s fine, everything’s fine, sir,” he says, turning back towards Keito and grabbing hesitantly for his hands again. “Honestly. Ah, are you all right? The smoke here’s awfully strong. It doesn’t bother me, but if you’re not used to it…”

 

Keito swallows hard, looking down at their joined hands. “You must think I’m an awful pervert,” he says quietly. “Please understand this is just me doing my job.”

 

 _Lies_ , his mind whispers, but he stuffs that down. Mao isn’t just twenty years his junior, he’s bonded to Rei’s little brother, and Keito knows full well that he must be sickened by what they’d just done.

 

“I know. We’re both here for a job. I’m not going to destroy our cover just because…well. Besides, I’d rather it have been you, than some stranger, that’s never enjoyable,” Mao dismisses with a shake of his head, giving Keito’s hands a squeeze. “Here, sit down on the bed, in case she comes in to check on us. Then at least I can climb on you in a split second and that’s convincing enough.”

 

Keito wavers for a moment, then drags his hands down his face. “Just...do me a favor and blame the smoke if I get hard, please,” he mutters, sitting on the bed. “And the fact that it’s been quite a while. What on earth do they have you wearing?”

 

“Whatever’s typical, or so I’m told,” Mao sighs, dropping down to the edge of the bed next to Keito and smoothing down the gauzy layers of silk. There’s little on him from the waist up, unless one counts dangling earrings and the delicate gold choker about his neck, leaving the years-old, faint discoloration of a magical scar on his chest revealed to anyone who wants to see. The rest is just layers of green and blue silk draped about his waist, everything (except for one, thin panel) being entirely see-thru. “Apparently, I’m fairly standard fare for a ‘middle-class’ prostitute, can you believe it? I had a career waiting for me and I didn’t even know it.” He rolls his eyes, glancing aside. “Even Ritsu was on board with this. I think my real calling was being sold out by those two repeatedly.”

 

“As your former guardian, I’m appalled,” Keito says, trying to remind himself what he should be focusing on. “Tell me the truth. Has Rei sent you out to be used like this before?”

 

“Does that really matter?” Mao mildly returns, leaning forward and setting his hands on his knees, drumming his fingers there slowly. “More importantly, why did he send you down here? I’m serving as next-door reinforcements to the people Rei actually cares about, though they don’t know I’m here.”

 

“I have a reputation down here,” Keito admits, not meeting Mao’s eyes. “I’ve worked down here as a procurer for years, keeping an eye on the trade. I’ll admit, when I was younger, it was a...hobby, of sorts, to find the worst offenders, then track them down in the desert and shoot them. That’s how I reconnected with Rei, actually, and the prince--er, the King, I suppose, as well.”

 

“Oh, I knew about that,” Mao says, fluttering a hand. “Is he making you pick that back up specifically for this mess now? I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am annoyed that he didn’t warn either of us. Ahh…this is so frustrating, but I suppose it could be worse—at least now I can touch base with you and follow through with leads far more easily…”

 

“It’s ill luck, I believe,” Keito says with a sigh. “He gave me a list of three hundred brothels to check out, looking for a new influx of northerners. This is the second one I looked at.” _Fate_ , his mind says, and he puts that thought under a boot and squashes it.

 

“…Lucky you?” Mao can’t help but say, biting back a laugh. It’s hard not to be amused at this point. “Sorry, sorry, I know it must be awkward as hell, sorry. I can tell you that there haven’t been _that_ many northerners here—just me, and one or two younger kids. Do you know they bill me as being _nineteen?_ I’m nearly thirty, do I really look that young?”

 

“Brothels sell youth,” Keito says, waving a hand. “And you have all of your parts, and your skin is better than it would be for a thirty-year-old prostitute, so they can sell you as ‘young and whole,’ which means ‘nineteen, but definitely older’ down here.” His mouth quirks. “If you have done work for him, it’s clear it hasn’t been in the Sandlands.”

 

“Obviously. I stand out too much down here, so what’s the point in using me here until I _need_ to stand out?” Mao cheerfully points out. “Rei’s had ears and eyes in the Sandlands far better than what I could ever offer up. Even now, I’m an accessory. The problem is the Otogari house; he used to have so much more there, but now…mm, closed off, quiet, and I think the source of every problem. So he’s trying to sell Mika into it.”

 

“And, doubtless,” Keito says with a laugh, “he sent you down here to keep an eye on Mika and Shu. You’re here to watch, as usual, Mika is here to infiltrate the demand end, Shu is here so he doesn’t panic about Mika, and I’m here to infiltrate the supply end.”

 

He pushes his spectacles up on his nose, amused. “So we’re all chasing our own tails, instead of being effective spies, because Rei is terrified to send his Consort down here, but unwilling to tell him no.”

 

Mao smiles and spreads his hands. “There it is. Yes, I am absolutely _only_ here to stare out the window and make sure no one too-disgusting is touching what’s his, even though Rei specifically sent yet _another_ tagalong to follow directly at Mika’s heels and distract anyone _especially_ grubby…as if that really works down here.”

 

“If he were smart,” Keito grumbles, “he’d have sent us down here as an effective team, rather than just a loosely colluded bunch of spies fumbling in the dark and bumping into each other.”

 

“But he’s never smart when His Excellency Shu is concerned,” Mao wearily agrees. “And ultimately, he’s right about one thing—I can’t speak sand tongue, and I don’t blend in enough to get as far as Mika can. If it was the two of us and Mika, though…this would have been so much easier. Shu is just…”

 

“Trust me when I say,” Keito says wryly, “after several years of working with them, Mika is far less valuable if he doesn’t have Shu’s support. Near useless, in fact, I’d say. Well, I suppose there is strength in numbers.”

 

He hesitates for a moment, then asks, “Are you all right? I know you have a resonant bond, and for some that will be...”

 

“I suppose Shu was a better choice in the end; the other option, I’ve heard, was Captain Arashi, and that idea gives me hives.” Mao rakes a hand back through his hair, pulling a pin from the side of it to clip it out of his eyes for at least a moment. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ve always struggled with feeling my bond, so…I suppose that’s for the best, in this case?” he says with a little laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “Ahh, I feel bad about it, honestly. Of course, _this_ is the one thing I struggle with as an enhanced.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Keito reaches over on instinct, and tucks a strand of hair behind Mao’s ear. That brings the sudden, opium-laden memory of the last time he’d touched Mao’s hair, and he pulls back, cheeks burning.

 

Mao’s mouth parts as he starts to reply, then he swallows, his own face hot. Honestly, in the moment, it had been _fine_ and entirely necessary, but now, he’s starkly reminded of the taste of Keito still on his tongue, and that’s… “Anyway,” he quickly transitions, shifting and folding his hands over his lap. “I suppose we should, ah, better discuss how to work together, while we’re both here.”

 

Keito swallows hard, looking down at his lap. His hand pulls back, his arm cold, fingers feeling hot and tingling. _Disgusting_ , he reminds himself firmly. “I won’t be purchasing you, I think that’s quite foolish. If she offers me someone else, however, I’ll ask you to evaluate him, and take him back with me for interrogation and rescue. Apart from that...”

 

He shrugs. “I suppose we continue working together loosely. I’ll do my job, you do yours, and if we need to meet...there are worse places, if you can stomach it.”

 

“Believe it or not, sir,” Mao wryly says, glancing down at his hands, “I don’t find you disgusting, and in a way, even though I’m sure it must be awkward for you, it’s a relief. You’re handsome and clean and, well, I appreciate how easy you are.”

 

“I’m not usually that fast,” Keito says quickly, before he can stop himself.

 

Mao’s eyebrows raise. “Probably the opium,” he mildly says, offering Keito a way out. “It does that.”

 

“Makes sense, that way...” Keito clears his throat. “That must be easier on the workers, eh? And a quicker, ah, turnaround time?”

 

“Probably. And this is the light stuff, you should breathe in the smoke at some of the _really_ fancy brothels where they honestly don’t want you there for more than a minute…”

 

Mao pauses, and the approaching footsteps up the stairs makes him move, abruptly shoving Keito back to the bed and yanking open his collar as he straddles his hips. “Time to look busy,” he mutters, pushing Keito’s glasses up and off as he bends down, sucking on the side of his neck.

 

The motion takes Keito by surprise, and all he can do is squeak, letting Mao kiss his neck. His hand drops, grabbing Mao by the hip, yanking him close just before the door opens. He indulges for another long moment, just like a true nobleman buyer would, before pulling back and blinking dazedly up at the Madam. “Ah, excellent. Is this my delivery? We could certainly use another pair of hands at this point.”

 

“Sorry, Milord,” the Madam says, hip cocked against the doorframe as she takes in the scene. “Turns out we’re sold out for the evenin’.”

 

“More for me, then,” Mao murmurs, catching the lobe of Keito’s ear between his teeth and tugging as his fingers drag back through Keito’s hair. _Sold out? There were barely any patrons in before, something changed, maybe someone picked them up._ “Right, Milord?”

 

The Madam looks entirely unfazed. “Two nobles every thirty minutes, that’s the rate for the first two hours. After that, we’ll talk.”

 

The door clicks shut again, but Mao doesn’t sit back yet, too wary of her lingering and listening. So, the sound of rustling fabric has to prevail, with his fingers swiftly undoing Keito’s buttons. “Grab my arse next time,” he suggests underneath his breath. “It looks more possessive.”

 

Keito thinks quickly, or as quickly as he can when his mind is so fuzzy. He moves, shoving Mao down to the bed, and slides down, avoiding his grasping hands. “I get to do what I like with you,” he declares, flicking his eyes to show that he understands that someone could be listening. _And this is the least invasive thing I can think of, and the most likely to let us still be friends later._ “I wouldn’t do this with just anyone.”

 

Deliberately, he pulls one of Mao’s feet onto his lap, breath catching as he does, running a finger whisper-light up the sole.

 

Mao falls back with a squeak, and his mouth opens, a protest on his tongue. It dies, of course, because what else _can it do_ when he has to keep his mouth shut, and he tries not to jerk back, his toes curling unbidden. “S-sir—“ _Milord_ his mind reminds him, but whatever, nobles can be into being called that, too. “That—I—“

 

“You’re here to please me,” Keito reminds him loudly, trying to be heard at the same time he’s trying to speak over the pounding of his own heart. He’s pretty sure it isn’t in his chest anymore, but somewhere around the base of his cock, thudding dully. He drags his finger down the sole of Mao’s foot again, letting the nail rasp lightly against the skin. “It’s a shame they make you go around barefoot here. Before I come see you next time, have these washed and oiled.”

 

Mao sucks in a sharp breath and squirms, not entirely able to help it. _What the fuck,_ he cheerfully asks of his own body’s reactions, which is to _apparently_ , immediately be riled to the point of uncomfortably hard again. “I—y-yes, sir, whatever you—“ He shifts when he squirms, and his foot slips within Keito’s grasp, pressing further into his lap and subsequently against the _very_ hard line of Keito’s cock. His breath hiccups, and Mao hears, vaguely, the sound of footsteps striding away from his door. “…want,” he breathlessly finishes, his head flopping back with a groan.

 

Keito’s hand pauses. When the footsteps finally recede, he draws back, wiping a hand over the sweat beading at the base of his neck. “Gods above, boy. Are you trying to kill me with those reactions?”

 

“I-I’m…a good actor?” Mao manages with a nervous little laugh, still not entirely trusting himself to move. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s a good thing, I suppose.” Keito looks down at his own lap, and grimaces. “I suppose it would be quite telling were I to walk out of here like this...perhaps I could pretend this is a fetish of mine?”

 

“I mean, it _is_ the Sandlands…” Mao pushes himself up onto his elbows. “But that sort of sets a precedent that’s uncomfortable,” he hedges. “Are you sure you don’t want to just…finish? It’s not like I dislike the feet thing…”

 

Keito swallows so hard it’s audible. With a shrug, he unlaces his trousers and pulls himself out, stroking swiftly as he moves his other hand to Mao’s foot. “You’re learning all kinds of terrible things about your mentor today,” he says dryly, “but given what we’ve been through before, I’ll assume we’ll survive.”

 

“Shouldn’t I just be happy that you’re so virile at your age, sir?” Mao says with a breathless laugh. He flops back again, curling his toes and trying to ignore how hard _he_ is. That can be taken care of later. “Are you sure you don’t want me to…I don’t know, step on it or something? Though I always assumed you were the kind of person that wanted to step _on_ people, heh…”

 

“It’s nothing like that.” Keito’s cheeks flush deeply, rubbing his thumb along the arch of Mao’s foot. “It’s not...a power thing, I just think they’re...”

 

He licks his lips, then turns, holding Mao’s foot still, then rubbing the head of his cock along the sole. The sheer _wrongness_ of it goes to his cock, and he drags a slick trail over the bottom of Mao’s foot, until the head catches on the toes, and he grunts out a curse, biting his bottom lip.

 

 _Maybe_ , Mao dimly thinks, his face flushing anew, _it’s time to shut up._

 

Justifying this with the idea that _Madam could come back at any point_ is good enough, though, and Mao shifts carefully, drawing his other foot up and letting it press into Keito’s thigh, his toes flexing slowly in. “Do you…want me to hold them together while you…” He trails off, licking his lips as he looks aside. “Sorry, you definitely know what you like.”

 

Keito’s breath catches, then comes out in a breathy whine for a moment. He nods, biting his lip nearly hard enough to bleed, trying not to act like a green teenager at his first sight of a breast as he guides Mao’s other foot into position. “I’ve never done this in real life,” he mutters, eyes down, pupils blown wide with pleasure and sheer lust as he grinds against that tight flex of Mao’s feet, wondering when his life went so horribly right.

 

“W-well, this is the Sandlands,” Mao breathes, his eyes sliding shut as he shifts for his own comfort as much as Keito’s and presses his feet together, letting one rub along the side of Keito’s cock as he thrusts forward. “You’re so hard, sir,” he murmurs, and almost against his will, he has to tease, “Are you sure it’s just the opium?”

 

Keito’s eyes flash, a sudden quirk of good humor as he thrusts forward, reaching up to pinch one nipple, giving himself in to the spirit of the moment. “Quiet, or I’ll silence your mouth some other way,” he breathes, knowing he’ll regret it later and not _caring_.

 

Mao stifles a noise by clamping a swift hand over his own mouth, and he glowers briefly up at the ceiling. “I think you already did that, _sir_ ,” he mutters, annoyed by the way his own cock just refuses to ignore his pleas to _calm down already_ , especially when Keito’s twitches against his feet. “Unless you’d like to do that again.”

 

“No, thank you,” Keito grunts, yanking Mao’s feet down in an urgent rhythm, chagrined at how close he is for the second time that day. “I’m good here.”

 

A dozen more thrusts, and he shifts, taking himself in hand and stroking himself to completion, painting the bottom of one foot in sticky white. He sags back afterwards, chest heaving. “Ahh. That was...quite a bit better than I intended.”

 

“No one would _ever_ think you were in your fifties, sir,” Mao huffs out, and he swings an arm out to his bedside, grabbing up a cloth as he draws his foot up, wiping it clean. This is just _lewd,_ honestly, and his blood won’t stop thrumming hot through his veins, distracting him. “I’m starting to think you like the Sandlands more than you let on.”

 

“If I hated it, I’d tell Rei to send me somewhere else,” Keito drawls. It’s easier to be relaxed now, when he feels as if most of his life essence has already been drained out of him. “ _I_ don’t have a resonant bond with anyone, nor a lover. If he’s going to send someone down where the weather is lovely and I have to pay for beautiful companionship, it might as well be someone who won’t leave anyone behind.” His mouth quirks. “And if I don’t feel like taking advantage of the wares, I just bring my sketchbook. It sounds lewd enough that most whores don’t even blink if I just want to draw them naked.”

 

“Everything makes more sense, suddenly.” Mao’s lips twitch, vaguely amused, and he tosses the cloth aside as he flops back onto the bed. “Well. Isn’t it fortunate that we can work together, even in these circumstances? And with a much more level head about this sort of thing than any wizard, I wager.”

 

“Oh, yes. At least I don’t have to worry about you falling in love with me.” Keito’s laugh sounds a little hollow to his own ears, but hopefully not to Mao’s. “Or at least, faking that you’re enamored with me, assuming I can buy your way out of this life of bondage.”

 

“Please buy me eventually, Rei absolutely did sell me and I’m fairly convinced he’s going to forget about me for a year if someone looks at Shu for more than two seconds, because he’s that way.”

 

Keito finishes tidying up, then leans down, close to Mao’s ear. “It’s unusual that she didn’t send someone up, isn’t it?” he whispers.

 

Mao nods, sparing a glance towards the door again out of habit before he replies. “There were others here that fit the bill less than a day go—this morning, even,” he softly says. “Maybe buyers are moving through here faster than we thought.”

 

“Damn,” Keito breathes, as quietly as he can without betraying even the slightest sound. “She didn’t even try to pass someone off. And I was offering large coins. That means there’s someone buying big, and probably in bulk...”

 

“At this rate, I’ll be the next one sold and this place will be empty,” Mao says with a snort. He shifts, smoothing down the silk around his hips. “I haven’t even seen anyone that remotely _acts_ like a buyer here, either…other than you, of course.”

 

“Your Madam doesn’t trust you, you know,” Keito adds. He reaches down, then adjusts the silks around Mao’s hips, doing what he can to cover him decently. “If anything, she’s sabotaging you, sending you to someone who said he dislikes you and then listening in.”

 

“I know.” Mao rolls his eyes, glancing aside. “That’s Rei’s fault. He sold me to her directly and for a low price, so between _his_ presence and the fact I can’t hide the fact that I’m absolutely _not_ used to the Sandlands…well, whatever. I’m good enough that she’ll relax eventually.”

 

“I don’t know very much about the whore end,” Keito admits. “Would it be more suspicious, or less, if I left a tip? Perhaps if I left you one and you acted like you were trying to hide it from her, like a regular whore?”

 

“Uhh…I mean, I was going to go for more well-behaved, but sure, I can get behind hiding my tips like a real prostitute might. Heh, so,” Mao says with a bat of his eyelashes, “how much of a tip am I worth, sir?”

 

Keito’s traitorous cock gives an unfortunate twitch, and with the way he’s lying close to impart his information, it’s likely that Mao felt it. He turns around, grabbing his purse, and pulls out a gold noble, feeling bold, feeling salacious, and drags the coin down the thin gauze over Mao’s chest. “Think you deserve this much, boy?” he asks softly.

 

 _Not nice, sir,_ Mao darkly thinks, but he arches up, grasping for Keito’s hand and dragging it up to his mouth. “You’ll be back for more, sir. I’m sure of it,” he softly says, plucking the coin from Keito’s grasp and dragging his tongue against the tip of one long finger.

 

Keito swallows hard. “I will,” he whispers, and catches himself just as he starts to lean in for a kiss.

 

 _Idiot_ , he curses himself, rolling over to stand up, straightening his clothes and putting his spectacles back into place. _He’s not your toy to use, he’s your_ responsibility _, you ridiculous, pathetic old pervert._ “I’ll be back to check on you--I mean, check for updates. Do you have access to a window, or to the outside? Any way to leave a message or a signal?”

 

Mao sucks in a sharp breath, steadying himself, and he nods, forcing himself to sit up and yank aside the heavy drape of curtains on one side of the room. It’s a tiny window behind them, but it’s still a window. “And you know my magical signature well enough, I hope,” he quips. “So I’ll be sure to get in touch, if needed.”

 

Keito nods. “All right. And just in case you can’t use your magic for any reason, put something red in your window, between the glass and the curtain. I’ll set a street child to watch for the sign, just in case.”

 

He hesitates, then adds, a little awkwardly, “It doesn’t have to be mortal danger. If you cannot...bear it anymore. Feel free to do the same, I’ll answer to Rei for it.”

 

“I think we both know how intolerant Rei will be if I decide to bail on a mission explicitly focused on keeping an eye on what’s his,” Mao lightly says, his expression wry. “Though I do appreciate it, sir.”

 

“I honestly don’t care,” Keito says flatly. “He can be as intolerant as he wants, he didn’t warn me that I might encounter you like this, and I am going to hit him in the face when I see him next.” He nods, then stalks out of the room, lingering smoke and perfume clinging to him like loving arms.


	17. Chapter 17

Falling back into old, familiar habits is startlingly easy.

 

Mika is grateful every single day that Arashi isn’t in the midst of this. The idea of being seen seamlessly integrating with old, familiar brothel life is stressful, even if this particular brothel is… _much_ higher end than the one he grew up in. The customers are all wealthy, well-dressed, with soldiers being few and far between—nothing like the sandy, dusty brothel full of vagrants that he was a stand-out in as a child.

 

Apparently, though, he still stands out here.

 

Less than a week passes before the brothel’s owner—a man that Mika does _not_ like after being around him for only five minutes, and it’s more than a little scary to think about Rei knowing him—and a buyer (a buyer, _not_ a customer, there’s a difference) get into a violent argument about…pricing? Cutting a deal? Who even knows; the smell of blood is still thick in the air, and that, apparently, is something that reigns supreme no matter the class and location of the brothel in question.

 

It doesn’t matter either way, because the buyer pays Shu his finder’s fee, and the brothel itself is left behind without Mika having to touch a single person—somehow.

 

The reason for that becomes extremely clear when it’s the echo of an unfamiliar palace that rings in Mika’s ears. It seems too fast, almost—but isn’t that the point? Being sold to the palace, in the midst of where everyone is so sure many of these dealings are taking place? _But minus Shu_ , is Mika’s frantic first thought, even as he tries to not panic, to hold himself together while Hajime lines his eyes underneath the watchful stares of several of the buyer’s…associates.

 

“It’s ridiculous,” one of them mutters. Everyone here, apparently, speaks sand tongue and nothing but that. “A birthday present for His Highness needs to be _tested_ first.”

 

“Doesn’t he like it when they’re, y’know, fresh?”

 

“Not so fresh they aren’t useful. Come here, pretty,” one of them says, grabbing Mika’s face with a rough, tanned hand. “Let’s warm you up for the prince—“

 

Hajime moves before Mika can even open his mouth to protest, kohl brush in one hand and knife in the other. “Release him,” he firmly says. “Please.”

 

The man laughs, and Hajime moves without hesitation, the dagger slicing in a swift line up the man’s arm. It’s shallow, not enough to kill, but certainly enough to bleed and _scare_ , and the man lets go then, cursing and spitting insults as his companion laughs: “Serves you right, don’t touch the prince’s things!”

 

“My apologies, Excellency,” Hajime murmurs, wiping off the blade and stowing it again against his lower back. “I dislike having to do things like that. Are you all right?”

 

“I’m…fine,” Mika manages, blinking a few times. _Rei wasn’t kidding about this one, apparently._ “T…thank you.”

 

Talk of the prince is fine and all, but when he doesn’t bother to _accept_ his birthday gift, Mika starts to get worried that he’s reached a dead end. Days pass—days without movement or usefulness or _Shu—_ and worry and dread start to sink in. There’s not _much_ he can do from this position—sit and wait and watch, certainly, but apparently being an untouchable commodity that can’t even _seek out_ men to manipulate is his new job, and that’s the exact opposite of what he anticipated.

 

To soothe _some_ of the panic setting in and in an attempt to be useful, sneaking around is Mika’s outlet, in spite of Hajime’s protestations. “I’m a blind concubine, what are they going to say?” Mika hisses, waving away his concerns. “I’ll just tell them I got lost.”

 

…which is how he ends up stumbling upon a meeting with an unfortunately familiar name involved

 

“The new toymaker should be arriving any minute—an excellent talent,” one of the Otogari advisors says, his voice wheedling. “You should think of bringing him into your guild, Milord.”

 

“I’m not sure we’re looking for anyone in that trade at this time, but thank you.”

 

Just the voice _alone_ is familiar, and it makes Mika freeze where he plasters himself against the door outside of the meeting, breath caught in his throat.

 

“At least _entertain him_ —Lord Nazuna, look here, we also developed a list of suppliers for you, the labor is _much_ cheaper in the South—“

 

“Are you lost?”

 

The voice is deep, coming from behind and above Mika. The Prince of the Sandlands, Adonis, stands tall in the corridor, outfitted in silks and gold jewelry, dark smooth skin warm in the setting sunlight. His face is impassive as he looks down, arms crossed over a powerful chest. “Your rooms are far from here,” he says, the fourth sentence he’s ever voiced to his ostensible ‘birthday present.’

 

‘Blind’ isn’t entirely accurate. It’s useful to have that as an excuse when most of his sight is compromised, but Mika can still recognize most people if he’s at least had a proper glimpse of them once—or by voice, which is absolutely the case here. He swallows as he turns to face Adonis, and immediately slides down to his knees, head to the marble floor in the single most subservient bow one can offer in the Sandlands. “My deepest apologies, Highness, I—I lost track of my attendant, and it seems I ended up here…”

 

Adonis looks down, face betraying nothing at all as he looks at Mika down on the floor. “You can get up,” he says, and extends a hand. Too late, he remembers that this ‘gift’ had been introduced as mostly blind, and adds, “I’m extending my hand.”

 

“Thank you,” Mika whispers, lifting his head and still politely not meeting Adonis’s gaze as he slowly climbs to his feet, gingerly accepting his hand. His mind is going a million miles a minute, shifting from _you’re friends with Rei, I need to be able to talk to you, you need to stop ignoring me!,_ directly to _Nazuna is here, Shu can’t come here, Shu can’t be anywhere near here, everything will be ruined and it’s going to be terrible—_

 

The meeting room door swings open, and just a flash of golden hair is all Mika needs to see before he moves, throwing himself at Adonis, burying his face into his chest and clinging to his neck. Nazuna, fortunately, doesn’t spare them a glance aside from a brisk bow of his head to Adonis before he strides off, leaving a cursing, grumbling advisor in his wake. “Highness—please, a moment of your time?” Mika hastily begs. “I—I’ve longed for a chance to properly meet with you—“

 

Adonis blinks, and lifts Mika off of the ground, almost without thinking about it. He carries the young man down the hallway toward his room suite, nodding at a servant to close the door behind him. Gently, he lowers Mika down onto a reclining couch, standing over him. Then, he turns and walks away, reappearing a moment later with a tray of cold cut meats. “Eat. You’re small.”

 

Mika blinks a few times. He’s not sure _what_ he expected from one of Rei’s friends, but beyond that, he _does_ know what he expected from a Sandlands prince—and it isn’t this. “Um—thank you,” he manages, quickly trying to pick up from his faltering and not entirely panic. Shu isn’t here, even _Hajime_ isn’t here, and this isn’t something he’s _good_ at. _I’m not hungry_ isn’t something one says to a prince either way, so Mika leans forward, touching the edge of the tray with trembling fingers before gingerly selecting a piece of meat. “I, um…I was wondering, if there was something I had done to displease you? Because you’ve…not seem interested…” At least it’s a lot easier to _fake_ properly trained for court in any capacity when he can speak in his native tongue.

 

“Oh. Yes.” Adonis nods slowly, as if thinking about this, and admits, “I’m not interested in sleeping with anyone who can’t fight me off if they want to.”

 

“T-that’s…a very interesting requirement, Your Highness.”

 

Adonis shrugs, but doesn’t offer any other explanation.

 

“I mean, it’s, it’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Mika hastily says, unable to stomach a second bite of meat, but whatever, he tried. He shifts, trying not to fidget and fiddle with the sheer silk that drapes over his hands. “I’m not…entirely sure why I would want to fight you off, though? I belong to you.”

 

“Do you want to sleep with me?” Adonis asks bluntly, head tilting slightly to the side, eyes scrutinizing.

 

“Who wouldn’t be honored?” _If this was really my lot now, I’d be set for life._ A part of his past self is jealous of the entire situation, honestly. “I’m sorry if I’m not to your taste—um, forgive me for asking, do you…do you have a lover? I promise, it wouldn’t be an insult to them if you occasionally found comfort in someone like me…”

 

Adonis sits on the edge of the couch, and picks up another piece of meat, putting it firmly into Mika’s hand. “You aren’t any different than anyone else,” he says quietly. “You aren’t worth less.”

 

“T…thank you?” This is _less_ of the sort of thing Mika ever thought he would have to deal with, and thinking on his feet is not his strong suite when magic isn’t involved. He bites his lip nervously, glancing aside. “I know you have probably seen…far too many people just like me come through your palace.”

 

“Not through my chambers.” Adonis looks down, and frowns. “Eat your meat. You’re too small. You have to become big and strong so you can protect yourself.”

 

“I can protect myself,” Mika mumbles before he can stop himself, but he obediently takes a bite anyway, even though his stomach flops in protest. “I think I’m beyond the point of growing, Highness, but thank you. It’s…surprising, if you don’t see many people like me through your chambers—have your parents never given you a gift like me before? Would you prefer someone that isn’t from the Sandlands, maybe?”

 

“I always refuse such gifts. I apologize if that gives you offense.” Adonis looks down at his hands, keeping them by his sides as a proper man of the Sandlands does. “I accepted you because it was polite.”

 

He looks around, then takes a small blank book and the stub of a charcoal pen out of his pocket, carefully writing in a clean script before handing it over.

 

**Preparations had not been made yet. Now they have. If you wish to be free I will liberate you from this city.**

 

Mika swallows the rest of the meat in a hurry, and snatches the book away faster than is entirely necessary.

 

 _He’s Rei’s friend, of course he’s doing things like this—_ but at the same time as relief runs through him, there’s wariness. Rei has some _very_ questionable friends in the Sandlands, and ‘liberation’ could mean a number of things. Mika hesitates, his gaze flicking up to look at Adonis—as much as he can—for a moment before he writes, in his own, neat script: **I can’t leave. I’m here on Rei’s behalf.**

 

Because that’s as safe a response as he can think of, honestly. It still makes Mika’s heart thud too-fast in his chest, and he nudges the book back over, folding his hands back up into his lap. “I appreciate you being polite, Highness,” he quietly says. “But at some point, to not, ah, make light of your parents’ gift, it might be wise to…move forward. With an arrangement.”

 

Adonis looks down at the book. Then his eyes widen, and he rips out the page, then eats it without flinching. “Would it make you happy to be a pretty ornament?” he asks, as if he hadn’t just eaten a leaf of paper. “You may feel free to pursue any relationships you want. If you like women, my sisters might be to your taste. But I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re terrifying.”

 

“They certainly have…a personality,” Mika manages to squeak out, his heart still thudding very, very fast. _Right, I’m not immediately dead or threatened, so maybe it’s good that he ate it?!_ “I, um, I’m happy to be whatever you like me to be, Highness, but women aren’t exactly…my specialty, I should say? It’s fine if you don’t want to touch me,” he hastily adds, slowly bunching the ends of his sleeves into his hands without noticing. “But, speaking from experience, if you would prefer your parents not to be aware of that, I should still occasionally stay within your quarters…”

 

“My parents don’t pay that much attention,” Adonis says, and takes Mika’s hand, then puts a piece of meat into it. “You aren’t eating. Eat.”

 

Mika’s lips purse, and he leans forward, frustration finally making him bolder. “Highness,” he flatly says, pressing the meat back into Adonis’s hand, “if you don’t act possessive in some fashion—and you should be, because you hold my contract—I can’t do my _job_ here.”

 

Adonis stares, brow furrowing. “If your job is to fit in,” he says carefully, “this will not help you. Because it would be unusual for me to act like that.”

 

“But I’m _very_ good at my job. It wouldn’t be unusual for you to be uncharacteristically interested with that in mind.”

 

Adonis’s mouth turns slightly. “But I don’t want to sleep with you.”

 

“You don’t have to. I’ll help you fake it.”

 

“All right.” Adonis looks down, and then presses the meat back into Mika’s hand. “I’ll do that if you eat when I ask you to. You’re all little bones.”

 

Mika exhales a frustrated little sound, but he begrudgingly takes another bite to appease Adonis. “I eat as much as I need,” he mumbles. “You won’t like it if you force me, I’m not good at it. Hand me that again, please?” he asks, grabbing for Adonis’s notebook.

 

Adonis hands over the notebook, unhappy with Mika’s rejection of his meat. What kind of person doesn’t mind being forced into sex, but objects to being urged to eat?

 

Treading carefully is still necessary here, but Mika is at least _somewhat_ certain that Adonis isn’t part of the problem. He pauses, chewing on his lower lip as he thinks before writing. **When you have a chance, you need to tell me everything you know about the trade that comes through here** , he writes. **Do you have any names of the traders? Is it your family that’s directly involved?**

 

Adonis reads and rereads the note, then taps the charcoal against the page, thinking.

 

**I have told Rei all of this information.**

 

Nothing has changed, then. Mika exhales a long sigh and flops back, thinking.

 

**I don’t think a single slaver would ever trust you as being on their side, so if you work with any of them, point them out to me. I need to be more involved if we want to help more people. If it looks like I’m trying to get a cut off of the pipeline of slaves moving through, that’s much easier for a lot of slavers to trust than a prince…and that means we can eventually cut them off entirely.**

 

A quiet knock comes from the door, and Mika flutters like a startled bird, shoving the notebook back into Adonis’s hands. “My deepest apologies for the interruption,” comes Hajime’s soft, tiny voice. “I was told my charge found his way to you. Do you require anything, Your Highness?”

 

“Yes.” Adonis stands, and nods down at Mika. “Help him find his way back to his room. And this evening, lead him to me by the tallest fountain in the courtyard. We will take a moonlight walk. Sometimes you can see red foxes.”

 

“That sounds lovely, Highness, thank you,” Mika manages, hastily climbing to his feet with a deep bow.

 

Hajime hurries in, bowing as well and taking Mika’s arm. “As you wish, Your Highness,” he softly says, bowing once more before guiding Mika from the room. “Excellency—you _can’t_ go wandering off like that.“

 

“If I hadn’t, nothin’ would’ve come of today, either,” Mika hisses back, clinging to Hajime’s arm all the same as his nerves just won’t _settle._ “There’s people here that’ll really mess things up—nnh, I don’t know what t’ _do_ , I wish….”

 

“His Excellency Shu is apparently here,” Hajime quietly interrupts. “I wanted to take you to him.”

 

Mika nearly trips over his own feet. That bit of information doesn’t help his anxiety—it only makes it grow, no matter how he finds himself tugging immediately on Hajime’s arm. “Please,” he begs. “Right now.”

 

“Actually—I’ll bring him to you instead, maybe?” Hajime quickly says, tugging Mika along down the halls to his chambers. “That might be safer, you’re a bit wound up.”

 

 _A bit wound up_ is an understatement, and Mika nearly vibrates out of his skin in the confines of his room as Hajime disappears and he’s left alone, plucking at the hems of fine silk until it starts to fray. _Do I tell him? Does he already know? How do I bring it up without him fixating again, did I make a mistake trying to talk to Adonis like that?_

 

A few minutes later, Shu enters. There’s an odd light in his eyes, which don’t quite focus as he looks at Mika, then around the room. “Well,” he says at last, “you’ve carved out a space for yourself.”

 

Stormclouds roil in his mind, distracting, dizzying, and he finds a chair, sitting down carefully, schooling his face into a familiar mask. He hasn’t had to wear this particular one for decades, but it shutters down easily now, mind whirring. Milady uncharacteristically ignores Shu, fluttering across the room to perch on Mika’s knee, resting a tiny glass hand against one of his fingers.

 

Mika lurches up, grabbing at Milady and clutching her to his chest. “Master—“ And then he bites his tongue, because _who knows who’s listening, what if I mess that up, too?_ He trembles, but he can’t stop himself from moving forward and falling at Shu’s feet, clinging to his leg and burying his face against his knee.

 

“No one is listening. I can still...I can still ensure that much, at least.” The words sound flat and strange, in a combination of the magic saturating the room and Shu’s emotions being held so tightly, unnaturally in check. “What have you accomplished? Make your report.”

 

“I have a meeting with th’ prince tonight—apparently, he’s already workin’ on movin’ slaves out of the South to safety.” Mika hesitantly lifts his head, resting his chin on Shu’s knee. He hadn’t expected it to be _so_ bad. _Don’t mention Nazuna_ —everyone has always told him that, and driven that into his brain, but to make Shu shut down like this… “I…he’s been ignorin’ me for the past few days, so I haven’t been able to do much ‘till now, I’m sorry.”

 

“Then you’ll have to work harder. You weren’t sent here to fail.”

 

Shu sits for another moment, then stands, agitated, hands wringing in the air as if attempting to run over something that isn’t there. “I’ll be here now. So you don’t need to be worried. I’m the Toymaker for the entire palace, now. Quite right, too--I’m the best one there is, you know.” Odd, how easy it is for his tongue to fall into old patterns of speech.

 

Mika’s fingers tremble where they curl around Milady, holding her tightly to his chest as he warily climbs back to his feet, trailing at Shu’s heels. “I…I know, I’m not gonna fail, I promise,” he quietly says. “Master—I don’t think he’s gonna be around here long, I overheard a meetin’ today and he was turnin’ everything down.” Saying the _name_ almost seems like it would be a summon.

 

“You’re talking unnecessarily,” Shu snaps. He looks back, and his eyes are shuttered, with something wild and terrified behind them, and unbearably sad. “I don’t want to hear that again. Go to your chamber, you look like you haven’t slept in a week. I’m going to bed.”

 

“But—“ _I haven’t seen you in a week, that’s why I haven’t slept._ Mika sucks in a sharp breath, glancing to the ground as tears well up in his eyes. “You could come with me—the prince, he—he already gave me permission to be with whoever I wanted, so I bet it would be fine—“ _Please, I was so worried and I missed you and you could at least pet my head, I don’t know what to do and I’ve never seen you like this._

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shu’s voice is cold, and he leaves the room without a second look, letting the curtained door swish shut behind him.

 

It ripples again after a moment, but it isn’t Shu that reappears, but an enormous red-headed man, clad as a guardsman in rough leathers. The man looks around, then sees Mika, and walks forward. “You’re Mika, yeah? You remember me? You was just a lil’ thing back then...”

 

There’s probably little more terrifying than someone huge, not _entirely_ familiar, and definitely _not_ Shu at a time like this. The voice is familiar enough, but compromised sight doesn’t make it easier, and Mika scuttles back, clutching Milady tightly. “K…Kuro, r-right?” he whispers, his eyes large and dilated as he tries to focus on him and not vibrate entirely out of his skin. “Why are you here?”

 

“Lookin’ after that guy, of course.” Kuro snorts, and squats down in front of Mika, rubbing a hand over his hair. “Gods, you’re so small! I thought you’d’ve grown a bit since th’last time I saw ya. Anyway, that guy’s not the only one who cares about ya down here.”

 

He lowers his voice, and opens his hand, dropping a tiny carved metal snake into Mika’s palm with a wink. “My Captain, ya hear?”

 

Mika’s lower lip wobbles, and he immediately closes his hand around the piece of metal before stumbling forward and helplessly throwing his arms around Kuro’s shoulders, clinging to him. “I d-d-don’t know what I did wrong,” he whimpers. “M-Master h-hates me, I swear I’m tryin’, I—I j-jus’ don’t know what else t’do and I _know_ I’m not t-that good at this but he said he’d be here to help me and now h-he hates me and I jus’ wanna go _home_ —“

 

“Nazuna’s here.”

 

Kuro squeezes Mika like he would his little sister, stroking his hair and back. “There, there, you’re alright. I got ya, don’t worry. It’ll be fine, he’s just havin’ one of his Nazuna fits. You...you never seen one?”

 

Mika shakes his head firmly, sniffling as he buries his face into Kuro’s shoulder, dripping makeup and not giving a single damn. “I k-know who he is, and n-not to mention him, b…but it’s never…Master’s never…” he flutters a hand, struggling to find the words. “Been like…like that.”

 

“Yeah, but ya never saw Shu right when he’s bumped into him in the hallway a minute before,” Kuro says with a sigh, sitting on the sturdiest-looking chair in the room, plopping Mika down on his knee. “What _do_ ya know?”

 

Mika curls up into a tiny ball, Milady and the tiny metal snake held close to his chest as he tries not to shake, fails, and huddles up even smaller. Kuro isn’t Shu, but he’s warm, not implying he’s a failure, and not the reason he’s crying (yet). “N..not much,” he softly answers, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’…jus’ that they used to work together, or somethin’ like that? And they had a bad fallin’ out…”

 

Kuro sucks in a breath. “If ya don’t mind,” he offers gently, “I’d like to tell ya the story. But only if ya wanna hear it. Shu said y’might not wanna spend time with me, somethin’ ‘bout an hourglass makin’ ya blink too much?”

 

“I can’t see that kinda thing right now.” Mika’s head thunks into Kuro’s shoulder. “And I wanna know so I can make sure Master really doesn’t hate me now.”

 

“All right. Then get comfy, kiddo. This is gonna be a long tale. You need some o’that honey water they drink down here?”

 

“No, and I’m not a kid,” Mika mumbles, fidgeting and pulling a handful of his hair over his shoulder to braid the little snake up into it. “Start tellin’ or l’m quittin’.”

 

 

“Alright, alright. This story starts a long time ago, when me and Shu were just rugrats.”


	18. Chapter 18

The Itsuki house is not a noble one. Technically, it shouldn’t even have a family house name. Only nobles are allowed crests, but the Itsuki house has always been a little...special. They don’t live exactly inside the Capital, but on the outskirts, keeping the eyes of those who would care slightly off of them. Anyone higher can’t be bothered to look down at a merchant house, no matter how wealthy they had once been, and no one below them dares to anger them. 

  


At least, that’s how it had been years ago. Shu doesn’t know anything about that, since it had been over by the time he was born, and subsequently raised in a drafty old house by his formidable grandfather and occasional visits from his parents. 

  


The current dilapidation of the house is currently Shu’s first concern. He bustles around the drafty old building, cleaning whatever he can reach, snapping at the one elderly maid that still remains with his family after their fortunes had turned. He buffs out every metal surface to shining, feeds the fires and turns up the lights, beats the carpets, and even scrubs a few floors before changing into his finest suit, tying an immense cravat far too large for his eleven years under his chin. 

  


“Young Master, you should be outside playing with the other children,” the maid says with a sigh. “It ain’t natural, a boy of your age bein’ stuck inside with this lot.”

  


“I hate the other children,” Shu says with a sniff, bustling over to his family’s display fabric, pulling out a brush and attending to every vibrant inch. 

  


“But y’want to spend time with the Coin-eater’s son?” she asks, baffled. “That lil slip of a thing--Young Master, he don’t even talk none.”

  


“He’s far more intelligent than you are,” Shu snaps. Even if she just chuckles at him, he still feels guilty for saying it. “I just want everything to be nice when they arrive. It’ll help Father to make a better deal.”

  


A whistle echoes through the heavy front door, and Shu runs as fast as he can, throwing it open to see Kuro. The son of his father’s blacksmith, Kuro is already a head taller than he and twice as broad, sitting astride an enormous horse. “Yo! The lil master’s comin’!”

  


Shu turns white, and dashes up to his oubliette, powdering his hair, then painting the corners of his eyes with liquid kohl. He carefully checks underneath each fingernail, then checks his cravat again, fluffing it as far as he can. He dons his fanciest coat, fastening his cufflinks as he runs back down the stairs, violet eyes alight as he opens the heavy front door again, just in time to bow to the Master of Coin. 

  


He’s a small, blond man with a wispy mustache, but Shu doesn’t care about that. He cares about the small blond boy behind the man, still looking like a perfect, lovely doll. “Welcome, Coinmaster,” he says, sweeping an elegant, low bow. “The bolts are ready for your perusal, but may I offer you a beverage--”

  


“Where is your grandfather?” the Master of Coin responds airily, and Shu stiffens. His family far outranks this man, but his natural instinct to be gracious to Nazuna’s father stays his tongue. 

  


“On his way,” he manages, though his blood pulses hot in his cheeks. “But I--”

  


“You two go play,” the man interrupts again, giving his son a shove to his back. “I’ll wait for the adults.”

  


Bitter annoyance rises in Shu’s mouth like bile, but the opportunity to run off with Nazuna is far more exciting, and he hesitantly reaches for the boy’s hand, tugging him up the long staircase to his chambers. “I got two new dolls,” he says quietly, excitedly. “Do you want to see? I gave one of them hair like yours, she’s the prettiest one.”

 

Nazuna, even tinier than Shu for his age, trails a step behind, even as he holds onto Shu’s hand without protest. The hair in question makes him look far more like a little girl than any boy, trailing long and sleek past his shoulders, with pieces of it pulled back into tiny braids. “…You can show me,” comes the eventual, skeptical response. Nazuna’s voice also doesn’t make it easy to determine male or female, especially with the soft, lisping addition that comes with certain letters. Shu, at least, doesn’t chide him for that, which is why occasionally talking around him isn’t the _worst._

 

Shu blinks tears out of his eyes. “You’re so cute,” he nearly whimpers, fingers stroking over the boy’s soft hands. He tugs him into the room, immaculately kept, and pulls his new favorite doll off of the shelf. “I made all of her clothes, of course, by candlelight in the last few days. Do you like her shoes? They’re real kidskin, you know!”

 

It’s one thing when older people—usually, older adult men that think he’s a little girl and find out that he’s a little boy and are strangely _more_ excited by this fact—are like Shu. It’s another thing when it’s another eleven year-old who he _should_ be able to play with _without_ this sort of thing…but whatever, it’s easy enough to ignore when Shu _is_ nice to him, even with the strangeness attached. “That’s…very impressth—“ Nazuna’s lips purse in annoyance as his tongue catches up on the word. “You’re good at that,” he settles upon instead, huffing a little. “My father…he hates dolls.”

 

“I know. He wouldn’t even come up and look at my finest dolls--as though he’s in a position to refuse someone of my standing, ha!”

 

Shu smoothes the doll’s dresses down, and assures Nazuna, “You can talk and I’ll wait, or I’ll just do all the talking, and I’ll never get tired of it. I think you’re the most wonderful in all the world, you know? Oh, I made you a present.”

 

He shifts forward, grabbing a crate from beneath his bed, pulling out a round floppy hat of the finest wool, emblazoned with a silver wrought brooch, set with a few garnets. “I wanted rubies, but Grandfather won’t give me any until I’m thirteen,” he says with a huff. “Garnets compliment your eyes well enough, I suppose, for now.”

 

 _Someone of your standing_ —Nazuna decides it’s not nice to tell Shu about how his father laughs about the Itsuki house with his friends and business partners, and instead, he eyes the gift with wariness that he can’t help. Gifts, his father has taught him, are to be accepted _only_ if the receiver doesn’t mind in being some sort of debt. “…Why?” he carefully asks, his eyes flickering up to meet Shu’s gaze. “You’re always like this…why?”

 

Shu flushes, dropping the hat into his lap. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to take it. It’s just--it’s nothing, it’s _stupid_ , obviously it isn’t...”

 

He breathes in deeply, biting his bottom lip. “The children around here think I’m strange,” he finally says. “Everyone around here is a rough peasant’s child, they think I’m too good to play with them. They’re right, I am too good to play with them,” he adds, with the air of someone who has told himself that a hundred times, usually while crying at being left out of something.

 

Nazuna quietly drops down onto the edge of Shu’s bed, smoothing the long, ruffled ends of his coat down over his lap. _You are strange_ , he wants to say, but he doesn’t, and instead kicks his feet slowly, thinking. After another moment, instead of replying, he reaches over, pulls the hat out of Shu’s lap, turning it around in his hands. “You’re…a fine tailor,” he softly says. “But my father…” _He doesn’t care about anything like that, he just cares about money._

 

“I don’t care about your father,” Shu says, though he keeps his voice low, just in case Nazuna’s father is passing close. “Keep it. If you can’t wear it now, put it in your coat, save it for some time you need to look your best. Ah, but I think you always look your best, you know.”

 

At that, Nazuna’s head tilts, but he does just that, stashing the hat into his coat. “I’m a boy,” he softly says. “You know that. Right?”

 

Shu blinks. “That’s a boy’s hat. I’d give you a girl’s hat if you were a girl, you know.”

 

“…But you act like…a boy does with a girl. With me.”

 

“Don’t think about that,” Shu says, a bit irritable now. “Saying things like that is so unpleasant. I like you for who you are, you know, _and_ for how beautiful you are. Most boys aren’t, you know.”

 

Nazuna opens his mouth, then decides against his next reply, and instead glances back down at his lap. “Looking like this…is annoying,” he eventually, softly says instead. “Other children think I’m strange, too.”

 

Shu’s heart feels like it’s going to burst. He picks up Nazuna’s hand again, gently rubbing it, and says fiercely, “We’re both better than they are. You should come and work for me, when I take over the business. I’ll dress you all the time, and we’ll revitalize the entire mercantile industry on this whole continent, and no one will ever call you strange again.”

 

“Father won’t let that happen.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but admitting things around Shu…that just happens sometimes, and it’s stressful, when he normally doesn’t see a reason to talk at all. “He…he wants to buy your family out. I think.”

 

That makes a strange fear curl in Shu’s insides, coiling around his lungs. “That, that won’t happen,” he manages. His vision sparks oddly at the side, a little fizzle of light, and he turns his head, but nothing is there. He blinks, and shakes his head. “Running our clothier isn’t just about owning the machinery, you know. As soon as I take over, I’m going to make _big_ changes. Fashions are going to change because I say so.”

 

“…I’ve heard them talk about it.” Nazuna bites his lip as he looks down at where Shu holds his hand. “Father says…your family needs the money. So he’s going to do it, because they can’t say no.”

 

Shu’s heart thuds. He can’t tell if it’s because of the horrible news, or because Nazuna is holding his hand, because Nazuna isn’t pushing him away. “Our name is worth more than money,” he says, but his voice is uncertain. Violet fire flickers again, and he frowns. Is someone playing a trick on him? Kuro sometimes shines a light into his room with a mirror when the light is right and he wants to play.

 

Nazuna blinks, glancing over to where Shu keeps looking, but seeing nothing, he looks back at Shu, unsure. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he quietly says. “But…I thought…you might want to know. What would you do, if not…this?”

 

“Oh, I could do anything,” Shu assures him, a little frown creasing between his brows. The light doesn’t come again, so he relaxes. “If Father is stupid enough to sell the business, I’ll become famous on my own and buy it back. It’s my father’s fault, you know. My grandfather’s designs are fine, but mine are still better. I’m going to try to take over sooner, so that will definitely save it all. Ah, you’re so sweet for worrying about me, though.”

 

Shu reaches out, almost touching Nazuna’s face, but pulling his hand back at the last moment.

 

“You _definitely_ think I’m a girl, don’t you.”

 

“Nazuna, I gave you a boy’s hat,” Shu reminds, shaking his head in disapproval. “I’m going to need you to keep up with the conversation.”

 

“But I bet you would dressth me—“ Always that longer _s_ —his tongue likes to catch on it, and that’s frustrating. “…like a girl.”

 

“The reason my fashion is better than any of the others,” Shu says with a sniff, “is that I can find the true, timeless beauty in any clothing, without saying whether it belongs to men or women. Ah, here, I have an example.”

 

This probably isn’t what anyone had in mind when they told Shu to take Nazuna upstairs and play, but he throws open his wardrobe, pulling out a full set of clothing. “I designed this for me,” he explains, laying out the clothes on the bed. “Look at the accents--no one in the world does them like I do, and I’m eleven. Ah, don’t look at the hems, I’m--I’m not really done yet, I’m going to clean those up.”

 

Unable to help himself, Nazuna reaches out, absently touching the fine material. He doesn’t _really_ understand it, honestly; his father has always made sure that he’s dressed nicely and in fine clothing, but if Shu says it’s something special, it probably is. _You should make me something like this, then_ he almost says, but bites his tongue. That’s probably too strange. “But it’s annoying, when people can’t tell,” he says instead. “At least, for me.”

 

“What do you want to do, once I take over?” Shu presses, straightening the cuffs and tails when his suit is all laid out. “I wouldn’t mind supporting you for your whole life, you know.”

 

“…that sounds like marriage.”

 

Shu flushes. “Well, if you _want_ to marry me, that’s...”

 

Light flashes. Pain shoots through Shu’s head with his next heartbeat, and he winces, hand to his temple.

 

Nazuna frowns, and he shifts, watching Shu with enormous, worried eyes. “Two boys can’t get married,” he reminds him patiently. “Are you all right?”

 

“H-headache,” Shu grinds out through clenched teeth. It doesn’t subside, growing behind his eyes, such a suddenly sharp pain that he sits heavily on the bed, vision swimming violet. “P-please, ignore me, I’m--I’ll be fine in a moment.” _Why now?_ he wonders frantically, hand pressed to his head. This has happened before, but never this _strongly_. _Why when he’s here, after so long?_

 

“Should I…should I go get your grandfather?” Shu looks like he’s in enough pain that Nazuna reaches out, hesitantly, gingerly laying a hand on Shu’s shoulder. _Normal headaches don’t look like that…right?_

 

That soft hand clutching at him is like a lifeline. Shu clings to it, sucking in air, trying not to grip too hard when Nazuna is so delicate he looks like he’d bruise like a ripe peach if anyone even looked at him a moment too long. Slowly, the pain recedes, and he smiles shakily. “I’m fine, I just--”

  


Power wells suddenly from his core, about to erupt. He feels it a second before it explodes, and knows with horrifying certainty exactly what is about to happen. He’s heard of wizards blooming before, about all the loved ones left in their bloody first wake, and sees Nazuna, looking at him with concern. Time slows to a halt, his mind racing, given a supernatural clarity he’s never had before. He feels his own time ticking, knows it’s about to happen, can sense everything around him, including--

  


Including his only hope.

  


With a speed that his father never would have imagined from his youngest, least athletic son, Shu sprints the three steps to the window and hurls himself out, plummeting to the ground below. Just before he hits the ground headfirst, putting an end to this before it happens, two big arms catch him, and Kuro’s voice says, startled, “Yo, what the hell are--”

  


Shu screams, trying to get away from his oldest friend, knowing with horrible, bloody certainty that he’s doomed him, cursed him to death as the violet fire rips out of him.

  


Then all he knows is pain, and the scent of blood fresh in his nose, and the world tearing itself apart.

  


~

  


“Shu.”

  


_Not yet, it hurts, I can’t--_

  


“I can see ya fluttering your eyes, ya know.”

  


That voice is so familiar that Shu’s eyes flash open, fixing on Kuro’s broad, solid form. “H-how?” he whispers, voice cracked and raw.

  


Kuro shrugs, and Shu notices that he’s naked. The world swims more into view, and he recognizes Kuro’s hovel, on the edge of his family’s lands. He’s in Kuro’s bed, with a threadbare blanket over him, as naked as Kuro. 

  


Kuro shrugs massive shoulders, always looking too-big in his own small house. “You went kinda......melty. Everythin’ blew up.”

  


“But you...”

  


He shrugs again. “Guess that’s a thing.”

  


What he leaves out is what they all know, but don’t speak about--the fact that Kuro and his sister have different fathers, that his mother had come to town with a swollen belly and the blacksmith had fallen in love with her nonetheless. He and Shu have had lots of starry-eyed conversations of speculation about it, wondering if perhaps Kuro’s real father was a god, or a demon. _Looks like we were right._ Before he says anything else, he asks, “Nazuna?”

  


“Gone. Not dead,” Kuro assures him, after Shu’s face changes. “Him an’ his dad--”

  


But then there’s a pounding on the door, and Shu sees his first wizard, and everything changes.


	19. Chapter 19

Life at the Academy is exactly what Shu anticipated. Kuro had offered that perhaps it would be better, that Shu would be happier surrounded by people more like him.

  


_Fool. There is no one like me._

  


That becomes readily apparent. No one takes to the magic like he does. Shu finds himself immediately fascinated by the magic his teachers show him, but almost immediately after bored by their reluctance to show him anything advanced. He spends his time studying every night, until he runs out of books that he hasn’t read. His classmates fear him, which makes him feel sick. It’s easier than being despised, though, so he takes it, turns his nose up at them, and sets himself further apart.

  


Frustrated and eager for something else to do, Shu finds himself in the tailor’s quarters, offering his services. Within a month, he’s taking a stack of tattered robes to his rooms every night, returning them the next day. And distressingly, it’s with an armload of ragged fabric that he first runs into the infamous Emperor of the Academy, headfirst.

  


Fabric goes flying everywhere, and Shu curses, dropping to his knees to gather all of the robes. “I do hope you watch where you’re going,” he snaps, not meeting the stranger’s eyes. “Now all of these are going to need to be cleaned, you know!”

 

The Emperor in question watches, sort of vaguely amused, before he slowly kneels to scoop up the now thoroughly mixed up stack of papers he himself had been carrying, tucked underneath one arm. Keito can deal with _that_ later. “I had heard you were touchy, but that’s apparently an understatement,” he lightly says, straightening up and continuing to watch Shu collect and fold robes. His own robes are pristine, perfect white, trimmed in gold that’s a few shades darker than his own platinum hair, tied back into a neat little tail at the back of his neck—but otherwise, there _is_ admittedly little to denote him as the Emperor, and Eichi thinks it’s funny that way. “How cute.”

 

Shu sniffs. “You must be a visiting wizard. Well, pay attention, because the next time you _visit_ , you’ll see me running this entire place.”

 

“Oh?” Eichi’s head cocks, his eyebrows raising. “Are you usurping the Emperor, even?”

 

“Ha!” Shu gathers all of the cloaks into a pile, mind already whipping into what he’ll be doing that night, which mainly entails courting a few old contacts in the business, trying to get better fabric delivered. “Once that old man sees how talented I am, he’ll be begging me to run things.”

 

“Eh? You think he’s old?” Eichi tries not to pout at that. “Maybe you’re too young to think about running things, but the Emperor is _certainly_ not old.”

 

“He’s been running the Academy for sixty years,” Shu says, waving his hand. “And everyone knows that he was already an established wizard when he took over. So he must be on the verge of death. Mark my words, I’ll be running this place in a decade.”

 

“Or maybe, you aren’t so sure about how magic truly works to preserve the strongest, little boy.” Eichi leans forward to better be eye level with this haughty little brat, his head tilting to the side. “You’re _very_ sure of yourself, aren’t you? You’re lucky I think that’s cute.”

 

Something in the stranger’s voice makes Shu hesitate. He freezes, and looks up with all the gravity of a thirteen-year-old, a bit of dread uncurling in his belly. He swallows hard, and lifts his chin. “So. You’re the Emperor. You--you think it’s funny to go around in disguise?”

 

“You think this is a disguise? Even cuter. I’m not in disguise, this is just how I look.” Eichi smiles as he straightens up, amused at how adorably _small_ this little upstart is. “Still think I’m an old man?”

 

Shu bristles, but just barely refrains from lashing out with his tongue. He lifts all of the cloaks, and huffs. “Well, maybe you don’t look so old. But you should still make certain that your ideas are good. Because I’m going to graduate early and become the most powerful wizard in the world.”

 

“Ahh, are you? Charming. You’ve some competition, you know.” Eichi’s eyes lid as he watches Shu. “Especially if you’re spending all your time sewing as well, but who am I to stop you? You have a talent for that, at least.”

 

“You should open up the library,” Shu says, before he can stop himself. “I’ve read everything I’m allowed to, and my teachers won’t let me skip ahead. What’s the point of keeping me in year one when I can do this?”

 

He waves a hand, irritated, and a nearby statue of a suit of armor moves, clicking his fingers against his stone shield, head swiveling to look at Eichi. “That’s year six magic at least, but they won’t give me anything else to _do_. That’s why I’m sewing. Also, I’m better than all of your tailors.”

 

“All right.”

 

Unconcerned, Eichi unhooks one of the various keys jangling from his belt, and holds it out with a smile. “If you want to study ahead, by all means. But you’ll be expected to pass testing at the same time as second years, third years—and on up, at their pace, on your own time. Also, you _are_ better than all of my tailors, aren’t you? What would you do if I allocated a bit of a budget towards you remaking every cloak and uniform for this place, hmm?”

 

Shu perks up, and snatches the key immediately. “Excellent. My family has connections with the best clothiers in the world, you know. I can get us far more cloth and far better than you’d ever imagine, and at better prices, too.”

 

“Why don’t you draw up a plan for me to review, then? Have it to me by the end of the week—and because you’re so advanced, I’ll give you two weeks before your year two final, how’s that sound?” Eichi pats Shu’s head. “Let’s see what you can really do.”

 

Shu’s eyes go wide, and he feels the first misgivings of nerves. His year two exams, in two weeks? Is he being mocked? He swallows hard, and nods, because he’s learned that. He cannot step back--it shows weakness. So he steps forward, and squares his jaw. “I’m going to come in first place,” he says, runaway tongue getting away from him.

 

“I’m sure you will,” Eichi sweetly says, stepping around Shu with a little flutter of his hand. “Make sure to get that plan drawn up for me, or we’ll just be stuck looking ugly forever, won’t we?”

 

“I always look beautiful,” Shu can’t stop himself from saying at Eichi’s retreating back. “But I’ll get you into shape soon.”

 

~

 

Becoming a Nightcloak is all Shu has dreamed of for years. Once he has that cloak, he’s always believed, he’ll be free to take assignments, to explore, to use his powers at his own discretion.

 

It doesn’t exactly work like that.

 

In fact, not five minutes after he dons his Nightcloak for the first time, Eichi’s smiling face hovers near him, informing him that he’s now _too valuable_ to lose in any unfortunate ‘accidents,’ effectively imprisoning him in the Academy for the foreseeable future. That’s frustrating, but not horrible, except for the fact that Eichi refuses to let Nazuna visit.

 

(He doesn’t visit often, but it happens sometimes, and every time is the highlight of Shu’s year.)

 

He tries everything--but Eichi always seems one frustrating step ahead of him, and he grinds his teeth, turning over the problem again and again. He spends a hundred sleepless nights in a row, staring at his wall, trying to figure out a solution. His mind ticks, and stops, and ticks, and stops. His exams were nothing, his sewing a distraction, but clearly, what he needs is--

 

\--is--

 

Simple.

 

It hits him in late August.

 

His real problem is that Nazuna, of course, as wonderful as he is, is not a wizard.

 

Shu can fix that.

 

Blooming is usually a violent thing, but he’s smart enough, clever enough, to ensure that it won’t be that way this time. He layers the spells carefully, one over the other, embedding spells that most people have never heard of, let alone would be capable of. The second Nazuna puts on the hat he’s sent (the idea is brilliant, it’s brilliant, no one has ever been as smart as he is, no one could possibly find fault with this, Nazuna will see how much Shu loves him), he’ll ‘bloom,’ radiating power in a minor, earthquake-style way. No one should get hurt, but it’ll feel like a wizard blooming to any Watchers nearby, Shu is sure of it.

 

He sends off his package, and waits.

 

 

~

 

 

Keito picks through the wreckage of what used to be a counting-house, and looks up at his young protege. “Well, Mao? What would you say happened here? I don’t want your calculated guesses, I want your magical opinion. Use your senses, you’re second-rank now.”

 

 _Second-rank_. That rings in Mao’s mind as _not good enough yet,_ but it’s good enough for this as he looks up from his notebook and his surveying. “Something enchanted was inappropriately used,” he says, tapping his pen against his notebook as his gaze flicks about, a frown on his lips. “You can tell by the kind of burn damage. I’d have to find exactly what it was first and foremost, but I think it’s obvious something was…tampered with.”

 

“We’re here to ensure that the object, whatever it is, can be safely contained, and hopefully to dispose of it.” Keito pushes his spectacles up onto his nose, and inspects a piece of wood, inhaling deeply. The magical signature is obvious to him, but this is a teaching exercise, after all. “Discovering who is behind such a thing is a tertiary concern.”

 

 _Agree to disagree, sir_ , Mao wearily thinks. Keito, of course, hasn’t been directly involved with handling wizards for a number of years. But he tugs his cloak over his shoulders more securely all the same, and exhales a breath, forcing himself to ignore the swirl of magic tracing back to an individual—something he’s always been _trained_ to focus on, ugh—and instead, on the mess of convoluted, tainted magic at the scene of the explosion.

 

“There,” he softly says, striding forward and hopping over a fallen wooden beam that once held up the house’s roof. “Can you help me lift—actually, never mind, silly question.”

 

Mao sets his notebook down and instead heaves the beam aside himself, shoving it a solid few centimeters to reveal a shockingly pristine hat underneath it. “This thing,” he grunts, wiping the soot off of his hands. “Because of course that’s what it is.”

 

Keito looks down at the hat, then closes his book, stashing it in his pocket. “Well. That pretty much closes the investigation, don’t you think?”

 

“Apparently,” Mao murmurs, heaving a sigh. “If it was tainted—no, even just enchanted…it’s amazing it even made it out of the Academy. The spellwork required to make it not trip half a dozen sensors on the way out…”

 

“You’re going to do something about this, right?”

 

Standing at the edge of the wreckage, arms folded, foot tapping irritably, is one Nazuna of the Nito household, looking as furious as one tiny teenager _can_ look. While he’s finely dressed, it’s obvious part of his hair has been recently, and hastily cut—presumably, because of the explosion—leaving it asymmetrical and quickly pinned to make him look as professional as possible, even under stress. “Is the Academy going to reimburse me? This was _your_ fault, letting s-something like this happen!”

 

“Any actions committed by an individual affiliated with the Academy, but without express direction or permission, is no responsibility of the Academy,” Keito recites, almost bored. “While the Academy exists in perpetual affiliation with the country of Yumenosaki, they are not an identical entity, and therefore no reimbursement is possible. If there has been any loss of life, please inform my assistant, who has authorization to offer minor compensation.”

 

“Ah, yes, hello, I—“

 

“He’s been harassthing me for _years_ and you’ve all _allowed it!”_

 

 _Here we go,_ Mao wearily thinks, deciding not to move when Nazuna storms forward, jabbing a finger directly into his chest. “If direction and—and _perm…_ per…ugh! To hell with this, you let him keep in contact with me and he kept sending me things and making everything _awkward_ and—“ Tears well up abruptly in Nazuna’s gaze. “And now—now my rabbit’s dead!”

 

Mao honestly did expect more of a fight about the whole _my entire business has been destroyed_ , but this—this is unexpected. He finds himself at a loss of words, and peers over to Keito, eyebrows raising. _How do I reimburse for a rabbit?!_

 

Keito shrugs. “That counts as loss of life, I suppose. Good, that’s far less destructive than a spell of this caliber should have been. Ah...my assistant will compensate you for the cost of the meat.”

 

“He wasn’t meat! He was my p-pet!”

 

“You…have a pet rabbit?” Mao echoes, his brow furrowing.

 

“Had!” Nazuna is just shy of stomping his foot, and his teeth grit before he shoves Mao’s chest. “Ugh, forget it, get out, this is still _my_ property. Don’t you _ever_ let that wizard contact me again!”

 

“Excellent.” Keito grabs Mao’s arm, dragging him away from the smoldering hunk of wreckage. “You’ve got the hat, right? How would you recommend disposing of it? And, ah, containing this story?”

 

Mao firms his hold on the hat in question, stuffed underneath his arm. “Perhaps,” he carefully says, “instead of disposing of it, we should hand it over to a team of our researchers, allow them to pick apart some of the more unusual spells on it to better understand how they work and to better prevent them from being so common place, and blame the whole thing on a rogue wizard that we will be capturing and dealing with accordingly.”

 

Keito frowns. “Hmm. Perhaps...” _Perhaps you’ll find too much about the spells and see who tampered with them._ “No, best to dispose of something like that. And the rogue wizard theory isn’t comforting to anyone who will wonder if anotherwizard will go rogue. Perhaps something escaped from the Shadowlands.”

 

“You’re right, of course. It’s smarter to say that it’s something from the Shadowlands, especially with all the strange activity from there recently. As for disposal…I believe only a Nightcloak can dispose of something this powerful, or the Emperor himself, but troubling him with that…”

 

“If they’re the only ones that can do it, then they’ll have to do it, whether they’re troubled or not.” Keito looks at the unassuming-looking hat with distaste. “Perhaps, hmm...” He gives Mao a sidelong glance. “Perhaps we should send for another Nightcloak than the ones currently at the Academy. Perhaps someone with more experience in the Shadowlands.”

 

“But isn’t His Excellency Wataru perfectly well-versed in the Shadowlands, sir?” Mao innocently replies. “I’m sure he’d be able to take care of this in no time.”

 

“Right. Of course. You go on and take it to him, then. I cannot stand him, personally.”

 

“I’ll do that, sir.” Mao offers him a beaming smile. “Don’t worry, I’m good at handling the troublesome wizards. You stick to the Emperor, he likes you the most.”

 

“Yes, I’m very grateful,” Keito says dryly. “Come on, I want to make it to civilization before it’s dark.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

Mao, eldest, only, and decidedly disowned son of the Isara household, has no time to help a little old man in the middle of the night, but here he is.

 

The late-night ride back to the Academy is frustrating, but necessary when there’s simply no one else to deliver wizards to their posts in the capital. That’s how he stumbles upon the old man, all wrinkled, tanned skin of a farmer and jutting bones and with a permanently hunched back, accompanied by his skinny, scruffy little dog.

 

“You’re such a good boy, helping me like this,” the old man gratefully says behind his thick, matted beard as Mao helps him to his horse. The dog nips at his heels, but Mao ignores that, courtesy of newly purchased leather boots.

 

“It’s really no problem—“ It’s a problem, a tiring one, but turning back and riding the hour back to the capital could be worse. “Here, sir—let me just help you up and I’ll climb up behind you, I’ll have you home in no time.”

 

A sliver of moonlight shines down over them, and suddenly, the old man’s skin is much too pale.

 

_Oh, gods be damned._

 

His horse startles, spooking entirely sideways, and Mao feels his back hit a tree as he’s shoved back with a casual, effortless hand. He doesn’t see the change, the way the old man shifts from hunched-back to strikingly tall, from white haired and bearded to all sharp cheekbones and short, curling black hair that shines almost blue in the night, and it’s a clawed hand that digs into his chest, one long, curved nail tapping at his throat. “That took you much too long,” Rei ‘greets’, a smile on his lips as he bends down to meet Mao’s gaze, his barely laced shirt falling open. “Being tired isn’t an excuse, before you offer it.”

 

Mao scowls up at him, but he doesn’t try to shove Rei away. Instead, he leans back into the tree trunk and heaves a sigh. “What can I do for you tonight, Master?”

 

The dog, previously nipping at his heels, circles around behind Rei, growling low in his throat. The animal isn’t a scrawny little thing anymore, but instead something that resembles a wolf, albeit still young and long-limbed, not entirely filled out. His mouth full of sharp teeth, however, makes Mao nervous when the creature fixes his golden stare upon him. “The Academy is bringing in a necromancer,” Rei says, ignoring the probably-wolf. “Next week. I want it.”

 

 _It._ Mao does hate when Rei calls things _it._ “All right. Tell me what to do, then.”

 

“I can feel its power from here—there’s nothing you can do, not as you are.” Rei’s nails tap against Mao’s throat again. “So we’ll have to do something about that. You’ve reached a plateau, and I need that to change.”

 

Mao swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing underneath Rei’s fingertips. “I’ve studied as hard as I can—“

 

“This isn’t something studying can fix. You need my help.”

 

Mao opens his mouth to let him know, very plainly, that more details are necessary, but the words won’t leave his throat when Rei lunges, and the sharpness of those fangs is all Mao can focus on. His limbs go slack, his fingers curling uselessly into the bark of the tree behind him, and the slow drain of blood leaving his body makes his vision swim, casting a more true-to-life picture of the Demon King than anything even the moonlight can offer.

 

When Rei drinks his fill, Mao blinks dazedly up at him, and Rei thumbs away a drop of blood from the side of Mao’s throat, licking his lips. “Sometimes,” he quietly says, “properly handling things that come from the shadows require knowing those shadows _very_ intimately.”

 

He pets Mao’s hair once, light and fond, and tosses him back into the woods, directly into the writhing, hissing mass of darkness that lurked there previously without a sound.

 

~

 

The necromancer in question acts like a terrified little bird, and highly resembles one, besides.

 

Even the strongest containment rooms within the Academy strain at the edges with his presence. Mao can _hear that_ now. It’s disconcerting what he can hear now, and the sounds of the magical walls bending, trying to break, is something he can’t quite forget.

 

As small as the necromancer is—no one has been able to get his name, and Mao _has_ tried, in spite of being discouraged from speaking to him—the sheer amount of magic that pours from him would dwarf most blooming. Sometimes, the magic comes to a stop, when the necromancer is so exhausted that he collapses, but even then, there’s something…lingering in that room with him. Something not alive, but something _there_ all the same, ghostly and weird and unlike anything Mao has ever read about in any book.

 

“There’s not _much_ to be done,” the Emperor himself says, exasperated as he stands outside of the room. He looks anxious, his face drawn and tight, and he watches the window on the door warily, as if expecting the necromancer to come explicitly for _him._ Mao has never seen Eichi like this, and that’s disturbing in and of itself. “No seal holds him. He can’t be trained like that—he certainly can never be in the general population, or be of service like this. I’m already dealing with the largest death toll for a blooming on record; keeping around a wizard like this is considered an affront on the crown, so it’s both a matter of practicality and politics.”

 

He spreads his hands. “With that in mind—Keito, Mao, Wataru. I’d like your opinions on this matter. Honestly, look at him. Killing him at this point almost seems kinder, don’t you think?”

 

“I do so dislike waste,” Wataru says with a sigh, hopping up to lounge on Eichi’s windowsill. His legs kick slowly as he weighs options, then he shakes his head. “I can defeat his little beasties, but only once he’s already called them. I do so hate being reactionary.”

 

Keito folds his arms, already on edge from Wataru’s presence, much more from the antsy way that Eichi shifts and glares. “I can’t control him,” he says bluntly. “And I don’t know of anything or anyone that can. An uncontrollable weapon isn’t something I want around my people, quite frankly.”

 

“If Keito can’t control him, then I certainly know I can’t,” Mao offers softly, his fingers lightly drumming against the notebook in his grasp. Meeting Eichi’s gaze during this conversation is much more difficult than he had expected, when his little sister’s body going limp repeats over and over and over in his mind. “The lives of too many others are at stake. I don’t even think it’s safe to _dispose_ of him here.”

 

“You’re right, unfortunately.” Eichi scowls, tapping his foot. “Fortunately, the expense of taking him to the Shadowlands for culling pales in comparison to the expense of keeping a creature like that around. Wataru, do you think you can handle him for the duration of that trip, at least? My own seals are…remarkably ineffective.”

 

“I will make it safe,” Wataru promises, though his face is creased with displeasure. “I...do not like this, Eichi. I want you to know that.”

 

“Displeasure noted,” Keito says, standing and heading for the door. “I don’t want to put this off, if we’re going to do it. No use making the...” He swallows. “The necromancer suffer.” That’s easier than saying _the boy_ or _the child._

 

“I wouldn’t ask it of you if I thought there was another way,” Eichi softly says, stepping over to Wataru and gently lifting one of his braids, twining it about his fingers. “It’s for the greater good of the Academy—for any human’s safety as well. He’s not _controllable,_ let alone trainable.”

 

“Shall I go prepare a traveling box suitable, then?” Mao shifts when Keito does, turning towards the door after him. Rei should at least be satisfied with this; if he’s there to meet and snatch up the child when Wataru arrives…

 

The containment seals on the holding room creak again, and Mao tries not to flinch. He does, however, step further _away_ , and instinctively closer to Keito. Recently more powerful or not, it’s hard to remember that when he’s _very_ used to being decently above-average.

 

The second a ghost breaks free, Wataru launches himself at it in a blur, grabbing it by the neck and snapping it, then landing hard on the ground. Keito grabs Mao, yanking him under Eichi’s desk as the ground trembles, an otherworldly wail echoing through the Academy, the walls shaking. He sees a blue blur as Wataru leaps and twists, but even he can’t reach the creatures that fly. One gets loose, ripping its ghostly way into the world with a deafening cry, launching itself at the tower.

 

Then, abruptly, it vanishes. So does the shaking.

 

Cautiously, Keito stands, making his way to the window, then looking out at the boy. “Eichi,” he warns. “He’s not alone.”

 

“What?!” Eichi lurches to the window again, and he curses underneath his breath at the sight of that pink hair and heavy black cloak. “Fuck him and whatever stunt he’s trying to pull this time,” he hisses, whirling away from the window. “I hope he dies, I’ve had enough of this!”

 

“That…that feels very unlikely, Excellency,” Mao manages, slowly crawling out from underneath Eichi’s desk. “I…correct me if I’m missing something, but I can’t feel a single thing now.”

 

A muscle in Eichi’s jaw twitches. “Come with me,” he orders Wataru. “I’ll settle this now if I have to. I don’t know _what_ Itsuki is doing, but I can’t condone it.”

 

Wataru, breathless and rumpled but looking vibrant and alive, falls into step at Eichi’s side. “What a marvelous young man he is,” he trills. “I do hope he’s as excellent as he seems, so clever!”

 

“Don’t you dare tell him that,” Eichi lowly snaps. “Not right now.”

 

Eichi can’t quite stop himself from being wary in his approach, however. The magic might feel still, contained, but that’s fooled wizards far less experienced, and Eichi does _not_ like it. On top of that, he doesn’t trust Shu, who he sort of wants to strangle right now. “What are you trying to do, Itsuki?” he flatly calls, keeping a fair distance when he can remember the _bite_ of those damned creatures, and how just one of them had thrown them into a bloody coughing fit for the first time in years. “I don’t recall authorizing you to be around that thing.”

 

Shu doesn’t lower his hand, resting with one finger lightly on the child’s temple. He looks up, something pained and glittering in his eyes, but his voice is firm, resounding through the courtyard. “He’s under my protection now. My apprentice. No one is taking him anywhere.”

 

Wataru steps forward, eyes wide. “Is he truly sealed? Shu, did you really do it?”

 

A tiny hint of Shu’s old arrogance reappears for the first time since he’d received Nazuna’s last letter, and he lifts his chin. “Of course. I _am_ the youngest Nightcloak in history, after all. Come, child,” he says, voice soft again. “I’m taking you to my room. You’ll be safe there.”

 

The child—a trembling slip of a thing with long, tangled black hair and only one tear-clouded, blue eye peeking out from it—is attached so firmly to Shu’s cloak that his nails nearly bite through the fabric. Eichi’s lips purse, unimpressed. “Is he sealed when you stop touching him?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest. “Or are you going to have to have your hands on him the rest of his pathetic little life? Your magic has been more than faulty in the past; you don’t _deserve_ an apprentice.”

 

“Eichi,” Wataru warns, shifting nervously in case either Shu or the little necromancer explodes.

 

Shu doesn’t move, except to remove his hand, holding Eichi’s eyes without flinching. No monsters erupt. “It isn’t faulty and you know it,” he says, low and dangerous, and lays a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m taking care of him now. Get out of my way.”

 

The boy lurches forward, clinging to Shu’s waist, his fingers bunched up in the fabric of his coat. Eichi holds Shu’s gaze for a moment longer before he exhales a low, aggravated sound, and steps back, but not without grabbing Shu’s shoulder, his grip vicetight. “If a _single thing_ is ever out of place because of him, it’s _your_ head,” Eichi lowly warns. “I don’t want to see him in any class until _you’ve_ personally proven that he can control himself like a normal wizard can.”

 

“Don’t listen to that arrogant ass,” Shu tells the boy, nose held high, leading the boy directly past Eichi. “You’ll never be a normal wizard. I can’t think of a thing worse than that to be.”


	21. Chapter 21

“And....well. Ya know the rest, I guess,” Kuro finishes, still petting Mika’s hair. “Some of it make a bit more sense now, do ya think?”

 

“Some.”

 

It’s hard to feel anything but numb after having all of that told to him, especially when the previously, neatly repressed memories of being scooped up and saved by Shu are _not_ what he needs to think about right now. Mika trembles, his nails bending, not breaking when he digs them into Kuro’s skin. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” he whispers, shutting his eyes against the uncomfortable, unsettled feeling in his stomach that won’t go away now. “I jus’ wanted him to pet me. And he won’t, so I wanna go home. Nazuna’s dumb.”

 

“Give ‘im time,” Kuro advises, patting Mika’s head. “It’s that guy, so give him about an hour. I’ll go rough him up then and send him back to ya.”

 

A disapproving, grumbling little noise leaves Mika’s throat. “Didn’t seem like an hour kinda thing,” he mutters. _Shu hates me, he hates me, I’m too much trouble after all._ The annoying thought, no matter how illogical, won’t go away, lurking at the back of his mind, whispering along with other noisy things, like scratching nails and creaky bones. “I’m goin’ t’bed,” Mika murmurs, forcing himself to let go of Kuro, his fingers running along the shape of the tiny metal snake now braided into his hair as he climbs to his feet. “If he doesn’t wanna be bothered…don’t bother him.”

 

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Kuro assures him. “I’m his oldest friend, it’s my job to bother ‘im. You need help gettin’ where you gotta be?”

 

“No. I can do it myself.” Scary, but doable, and Mika bows his head, orienting himself back onto his feet and turning towards the door. He pauses at the last second, hesitating. “Did…did Izumi say anything? Arashi’s not comin’, is he?”

 

“Captain Arashi of the Sharps,” Kuro says, reciting, “is unable to attend, as he’s in the middle of the preparations for his...”

 

He frowns, and grabs for the bottom of his jacket, and the words he’d scratched on the inside of the lining. “Nuptials. Knew it was something about marriage, but with an N. He’s gettin’ hitched, is what it means.”

 

The scratching rises to a dull roar, and it feels as if his heart drops into his stomach. “I…I see. Thank you.”

 

The door slams behind him, and Mika hurries down the hall, barely even stopping when Hajime catches his arm, trying to pull him to a more reasonable pace. “Excellency—Excellency, what’s—“

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

“I—at least let me take you to—“

 

“Fine, do that, then leave me alone.”

 

Mika is grateful he can’t see the worried way that Hajime looks at him, and he’s even more grateful for the chance to shut the door in Hajime’s face, locking him out. Stuck in the Sandlands with Shu unable to even speak to him normally, sealed and blind with scarcely a single lead, dealing with a prince that’s _honestly_ no help at all, no Izumi, neither of Izumi’s daughters, no Arashi and Arashi getting _married_ —

 

Mika throws himself onto his bed and pulls a pillow over his head, trying to silence the screeching of every wisping ghost that’s at _least_ a dozen times more terrified than him.

 

~

 

To hell with Hintervalley and the Hinterlands and every single part of them, actually.

 

Natsume has a hard time investigating much of anything when he’s so cold he can’t function. When he wakes and Wataru is gone, his motivation to do much of anything is far below normal, especially when he can’t shake off the fog of vision yet conceived. That makes his life much harder, his ability to function like a normal human much, much less possible, and so he mostly lurks about, sulking, not exactly inviting a lot of helpful conversation.

 

The ruling family is who he needs to talk to, of course. Investigating them, however, isn’t entirely feasible when he can’t even wheedle his way past their gates, and so Natsume fumes, annoyed that a Nightcloak and the word of the Academy isn’t _enough_ up here. _If I were Rei,_ he bitterly thinks _, I bet they’d let me in._

 

And so, as he lingers, moodily considering and gnawing his way through a meat bun (the only warm thing he can get his hands on), he watches someone _literally_ scale down the side of the palace walls.

 

Is that…a _thing_ in the Hinterlands? Do people just do that? Unlikely. Natsume stares, watching this feat. Are palaces honestly _so_ tolerant of that here? Also unlikely. Maybe he should have just considered blasting open a hole in the wall and letting himself in.

 

Souma of the Kanzaki house hits the ground feetfirst, rolling a little, which is a lot more painful than it would be if he’d dropped his sword. As it is, he picks up several new bruises, but comes up dusty and determined, even if he’s limping a bit.

 

No one is sounding the alarm yet, which is a good sign. This hadn’t exactly been an advance plan. If it were, he wouldn’t be wearing a ladies’ dress, something that he tries to ignore as he takes to the side of the road, eyes sharp as he looks behind him, trying to make sure he isn’t being watched.

 

Then a figure rises out of the darkness, and he stops, facing the small figure, right hand going to the hilt of his sword. “Who are you?” he calls, voice clear and demanding. “Show yourself, this is the Duke’s road!”

 

Natsume finishes his meat bun, entirely unfazed. Sword-wielding idiots don’t faze him, and they don’t interest him, and they certainly aren’t worth his time, but this one is kind of hilarious if only for the fact he just dropped down the side of a palace…wearing a dress. “Who are _you?_ ” Natsume shoots back, dusting his hands off. “No maiden, obviously.”

 

“I am...no one.” A shadow crosses Souma’s face. “I have no name any longer. I am now only a wanderer, with no home.”

 

“Whatever. You _look_ like some weirdly pure sword-swinger for sure.” Natsume holds out a hand, brilliant green flame leaping to the tips of his fingertips to offer them both more light in the dark. “Are you running away from the palace? Why? And why are you wearing that dress, you look _nothing_ like a woman.”

 

Souma opens his mouth, then pauses, staring at the person confronting him. “Aren’t you wearing a dress, stranger? You don’t sound like a woman. Ah! Are you also running away from your noble parents, who are forcing you into marriage as a woman to satisfy the agreement made with foreign dignitaries after the death of your older sister?”

 

“Uh…no, but thanks for that exposition. You’re suddenly _useful_.” Natsume steps forward, his eyes glittering. “You’re part of this noble house? You’re a Kanzaki?”

 

“I...yes.” Souma’s eyes flicker back to the house, and asks hurriedly, “Perhaps if we are talking, we could do so away from here? And perhaps you could stop ending your sentences so forcefully? It feels intimidating somehow.”

 

“One more question—is your family involved in the trading of slaves? I’ll set the palace on fire _right now_.”

 

Souma’s face twists in horror. “Slaves? Never! Such a thing would be the ultimate dishonor! My family is an old, ancient one of ascetic warriors. If such word is being spread, I will end my life right now.” He unsheathes his sword, and extends his arms as far as they’ll go, attempting to get the point at his chest.

 

“You’ve got to stop.” Natsume snuffs out the flame on his hand and strides forward, smacking Souma’s sword. “Drop that _thing_ and walk with me. I’m from the Academy, investigating this stupid _place_.”

 

Sulkily, Souma sheathes his sword. “Is it the mines you’re investigating, stranger? I can take you there. Or perhaps it’s information you require?”

 

“Both. But first, I want information, because you already brought up the mines. What do you know about the trade there? What’s your name, o virgin ascetic warrior?”

 

“Souma, of the Kanzaki house, second son of the Duke.” Souma bows, then hesitates. “Ah, it makes me slightly uncomfortable that you keep referring to me as a virgin?”

 

“What else could you be, look at you,” Natsume dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Well, Souma of the Kanzaki house, you’re in the presence of the youngest Nightcloak wizard, Natsume of the Sakasaki house. Like I said, I’m here on behalf of the Academy—and you’re going to tell me whatever I need to know to get to the bottom of the slave trade that’s been _directly_ traced _here_ , underneath your family’s nose.”

 

Souma bows again, deeply. “Your titles sound very impressive! I’ve never heard of you, however! What is your interest in my family’s lands, friend wizard? Are you friend, or foe?”

 

“I’m going to set this entire city on fire to be warm if you don’t start listening to me and tell me about the slave trade that I can literally trace to _your_ mines.”

 

Souma’s face changes, suddenly ferocious as he draws his sword again, lunging forward with a yell, striking at Natsume.

 

Natsume takes a quick step back, and the ground where he once stood collapses, dropping Souma abruptly down into the suddenly formed hole. “Don’t do that,” he calmly orders, peering down at Souma. “Just answer my questions. Or I’ll assume you’re part of it, and I’ll set you on fire, too.”

 

“My family is one of honor!” Souma yells, apparently unfazed by being dropped into a hole where there wasn’t one before. He clutches his sword, looking up at Natsume. “I’ll take you to the mines. You’ll see, I’m sure everything there is perfectly legitimate!”

 

“So honorable they put you in a dress, huh?” Natsume mildly says, his head tilting slowly to the side as he watches Souma. “While you’re down there, answer me this: who’re you supposed to be getting married to, anyway?”

 

“I...don’t know.” Souma’s face clouds, and he scowls down at the ground, then kicks at the side of the hole. “I was the youngest. I was to be a soldier, the Captain of my family’s forces. My sister was offered in a trade marriage, but I...” He flushes. “I never cared much for such things, I admit.”

 

“Mmm.” Natsume flicks a rock down into the hole, watching it bounce off the side. “But it’s someone foreign, you said? Down South, maybe?”

 

“I don’t know,” Souma admits. “My family has some connections with the Sandlands, but my valet says that there’s a Lord in the West who’s recently announced a marriage as well. And I’d rather die than bring my family dishonor,” he finishes fiercely, kicking at the rock. “So I had no choice but to run away.”

 

Natsume exhales an aggravated breath as he straightens with a wave of his hand, and the ground rises again abruptly, dumping Souma forward and flat on his face at Natsume’s feet. “If you draw that sword on me again, I’ll cut your arm _off_ ,” he threatens. “You said your sister died. How?” 

 

“Plague.” The word is soft, hollow. “Two days ago. She’d been out hunting in the Northeast of our lands. Her whole group--two of them recovered, but the rest...”

 

Natsume gnaws on his lower lip. That’s not the answer he expected, and he doesn’t like it. “If you were anywhere near her and you’ve got plague and you give it to me, I’ll _haunt you_ ,” he flatly says. “Get up. Take me to those mines of yours that you say are so clean and slave-free.”

 

“I have no idea where the mines are,” Souma admits. “I’ve never been. But our supplies come from...ah, this way!” He points, then dashes off down the road, obviously expecting Natsume to follow.

 

Natsume _hates_ wild goose chases, which is exactly what this seems like, but fine—fine, this is _fine_.

 

‘The mines don’t have slaves’ and ‘I’ve never been to the mines’ are two very separate responses, and it immediately makes Natsume suspicious and annoyed. “You’re obnoxiously loud and _fast_ ,” he breathes when he catches up, grabbing Souma by his long ponytail and yanking him back. “Aren’t you supposed to be running away, you weird pure boy? Subtlety, that’s key.”

 

Souma kicks a little, confused at first at the way he’s being pulled back. “Ah. Subtlety. Right! Surely, then, we should change into men’s clothes. Did you bring any?”

 

“This is how I dress, and you’re insulting me and my family by suggesting otherwise.” Not true, but it’s kind of hilarious to poke at Souma like that now.

 

Souma’s eyes bulge, and he drops down to his knees in the mud, further soiling his ruined dress. “I apologize! I will immediately commit suicide to atone for my sins.”

 

“Yeah, don’t? I’d rather kill you myself but I’m busy. You _are_ a mess, though, what were your parents thinking trying to dress someone like _you_ up as a woman?”

 

Souma drops his eyes guiltily. “I’m...if I were good at pretending to be a woman, I would have stayed and played my part,” he says quietly. “There was no one else. All of my other siblings are married already. And my family breeds true, there’s no mistaking someone of the Kanzaki line.”

 

“Get up,” Natsume exasperatedly says, honestly unable to keep watching Souma ruin what was a perfectly fine dress. Shu must be rubbing off on him. “So you’ve got an important enough marriage that your parents are willing to pass you off as a girl, but you don’t know who it’s to. You’ve got mines that you say don’t have slaves, but you’ve never even been to them. And your house has nothing to do with slaves, but I ended up being led directly to it when I was asking around. You’re clueless.” He scowls. “I _guess_ I have no choice but to _help_ you, ugh.”

 

A wave of his hand, and the dirty, tattered dress swiftly melts into something resembling the Hinterland’s typical male fashions. It’s an illusion more than a permanent fix, but Souma can’t tell the damned difference, and if it makes him stop looking so crazed, all the better. “There. Feel better?”

 

Souma looks down at himself, and relaxes. “Thank you. I will remember this until my dying day. Should you ever request anything of me, you have only to--”

 

“Stop, you’ve got to stop.”

 

“Very well!”

 

Souma moves quickly now that he’s less encumbered, taking Natsume’s hand and leading him down the road. “I’ve heard all my life about the glory of our mines. Surely, you will be impressed.”

 

“Sounds like lies fed to sheltered nobles, but okay,” Natsume deadpans, not protesting his hand being taken because at least Souma is acting more like a human and not a frantic bug. “I’m not here to be impressed. I’m just making sure they’re as slave-free as you insist upon.”

 

“If I may ask, why is the Academy investigating the Kanzaki lands?” Souma asks. For the first time, he feels a qualm of misgiving about whether he should be leading this wizard to his family’s stronghold.

 

“Suspicious activity. Don’t you want to get to the bottom of something that could be harming countless people?”

 

“Yes!” Souma’s face clears, and his step becomes more sure, turning down a side road. “Of course! My honor would never permit me to overlook such a thing!”

 

 _You’re honestly so easy, I almost feel bad,_ Natsume wearily thinks, trying not to roll his eyes. The operating word is ‘almost’, however, and Natsume follows, turning his nose up at the tell-tale smell of dust and ore and tampered earth. “It definitely _smells_ like mines around here,” he mutters, sticking out his tongue.

 

“Indeed. You get used to the smell after quite a while. It’s sort of a nice smell, I think! Lots of deep earth, and water, and good smelting.” Souma regains his cheer with every step, knowing that he’s _doing something_ instead of just running away from something. “Here, just beyond that rise. This far, I’ve been before, though I was very small.”

 

Beyond the rise in question are the mines indeed—busy with smoke and dim lantern light even at this time of night. The creaking wheels of carts, dragging away raw ore, are grating to Natsume’s ears, and he frowns, stilling on the rise with the best view, resisting the urge to use magic for a better view on the off-chance there’s anyone enhanced involved with this whole mess. Far more free wizards might be, but that doesn’t mean that everyone is their friend.

 

What catches his eye isn’t the process of mining, however, but instead, the occasional activity that seems to be coming from further North. His eyes narrow, and he grabs at Souma’s arm, pulling him closer. “Over there, in that direction—that’s the Shadowlands, right?” he presses, jabbing a finger in the direction of darkly spiking mountains, only visible on the horizon courtesy of the miners’ lights. “Have you ever been?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Souma’s eyes widen at the realization of what he’s said, and he says hastily, “Only to the borders, of course! We go hunting up there sometimes, the animals are...different. They have quite a bit of delicious meat on them, but we always wait until they wander into our territory.” That might not be _precisely_ true, but it’s mostly true, and who can really tell exactly where one territory begins and another ends, up there in the mountains?

 

Natsume regards him skeptically for a moment before his sharp gaze turns back out over the mountains. “It looks like there’s another mine out there, over the border,” he softly points out. “Judging by the smoke, and the lights.”

 

Souma shrugs. “That’s none of my family’s concern. Doubtless there are many things over those evil mountains.”

 

“It’s your concern if your people are working over there. Or your slaves. Or any combination of that.” Natsume grabs Souma’s chin, firmly turning his chin to make him look at the winding paths that go through the hills, up towards the Shadowlands. “That looks pretty well-used, don’t you think? Carts going up and down those hills taking people and ore doesn’t sound too farfetched to me.”

 

Souma immediately pushes back against that hold, but...

 

His eyes narrow as he peers at the track, adjusting to the dim light. “That’s...very strange. There aren’t supposed to be any roads up there, they’re not on any maps.”

 

“Well, the roads are there, _obviously_.” Natsume releases Souma’s face with a huff. “What kind of noble doesn’t know his lands like the back of his hand? A useless one. You don’t want to be useless, right?”

 

“No! I do not want to be useless!” Souma grabs Natusme’s hand, guileless and eager. “Let us investigate with all haste, and discover what cretin is making use of my family’s honorable lands!”

 

“Excellent, good boy.” Souma might be easy, but that just makes him that much more useful. Natsume would be a fool not to use that, and he’s _not_ a fool—and he’s certainly not going to disappoint Wataru _or_ Rei. “Then let’s get to work.”


	22. Chapter 22

Night takes a long time to fall in the Sandlands. It happens slowly, the sun sinking at glacial pace, the moon and stars already shining brightly, mitigating the slide into darkness. Activity continues much later into the night than it does up North, with parties and fetes lasting long after darkness, brightly colored lanterns bobbing in the fountains, hanging from the fragrant fruit trees.

 

People are still dancing and laughing when the curtain to Mika’s chamber opens, and Shu enters. His eyes flicker in the low light as he approaches the bed, gently settling onto the edge, then curling up behind him, his whole body trembling. “Are you awake?” he whispers, voice pitched so low it’s almost silent.

 

Mika, buried underneath as many linens and pillows as he can pile into a makeshift nest device, shifts, albeit warily.

 

Shu visiting him should be a relief, but right now, it makes him nervous. His thoughts, full of worry and doubt, won’t shut up, and _nothing_ can make the hissing, rasping whispers of things long-dead from churning around in his mind. It makes Mika hyper-aware of everything living and breathing even though his magic is so tightly sealed, and its with a wide-eyed, still mostly unseeing stare that he eventually allows himself to move, turning over to face Shu. “Sort of,” he offers in a whisper of his own, feeling himself start to tremble in kind. “Master…I’m sorry.”

 

“Shh. The fault is...not yours.” Shu’s fingers shake, and he twists them into his blanket, eyes squeezed shut. “I wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t....prepared. To see...something so...unpleasant.”

 

“I wanted to warn you.” Mika slowly shifts closer, less afraid of Shu’s disapproval now that he’s not quite so…closed off. “B-but I didn’t know you would be here like this,” he softly says, tugging one of his blankets over and around Shu as well. “If…if I can do somethin’ to help, I will.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. I just--I wasn’t good enough.” There’s an odd light in Shu’s eyes for a moment, but he shoves it away, brutally crushing it. “I thought I was over it, I thought...that what I had done was enough. I was a fool. And now I just want...to make certain I’ve done something right. With you.”

 

“O…of course you’ve done somethin’ right, Master,” Mika mumbles, pulling the blanket up and over their heads. “You’re th’ one that saved me. I…I don’t know why, but you did, s-so I wanna keep tryin’ really hard to n-not disappoint you.”

 

“It was selfish.” Shu’s never spoken of it before, never wanted to, and the words are bitter on his tongue. “You’re so grateful to me, but it was just...I wanted to show those bastards that I could still be useful. And when I saw you, and you were so...”

 

He clenches his fist, breath going ragged. “You were so beautiful, and _talented_ , and they were just going to throw a _person_ away because they didn’t understand him, and...so, you see, it was just selfish.”

 

Mika shakes his head, and scoots closer, trembling fingers reaching out to grab at the hem of one of Shu’s sleeves. “Y…y’weren’t selfish,” he whispers. “You saved me. I…I wouldn’t’ve blamed ‘em if they had killed me. I’m…I can still barely do magic like a normal wizard, I still can’t _think_ like one, I…I’m not…I’m not good for much if I’m not gonna kill things. Y-you could’ve rescued someone a lot easier and smarter and better at everything t’show you were still useful, like Rei did with Natsume, y’know?”

 

“But I...” Shu swallows hard, searching for words. “I’d only drag someone like that down. That blasted Emperor hated me, tried to find any excuse to kill me. I thought that anyone I touched would be dragged down with me. You probably would have been better off without me, in the end.”

 

“Nuh uh.” Mika tugs on Shu’s sleeve. “If y’hadn’t saved me…if they didn’t kill me, I would’ve wanted to die,” he whispers. “Without you sealin’ me…without you helpin’ me, I c-can’t…you know I can’t even _look_ at people, even regular people, I can’t even listen t’someone talk w-without it hurtin’, with maybe hurtin’ _someone,_ you…you make that go away. Otherwise, they were right, I should’ve been killed.”

 

“But now it’s different.” Shu’s voice is a whisper, and he lifts a hand, brushing the hair out of Mika’s eyes. “You can seal yourself now, you can control yourself. You’re a valuable, trained asset on the battlefield. You...you don’t need me anymore. And I’m still--”

 

 _Broken_.

 

Mika’s head shakes again, and he butts his face against Shu’s hand. “I need you,” he quietly says. “I c-can’t control anything without you. Even if it’s jus’ because you’re there, that’s…that’s enough, I dunno why, that’s jus’ what I need. I’d blow up this whole stupid place if you weren’t here.” He lifts his hand, curling it over Shu’s. “You’re _so_ good, Master. I’m the one even Rei won’t give a Nightcloak to, even if I can pass all the tests.”

 

“You don’t want to be a Nightcloak,” Shu says softly. “It means people expect things from you. Things that are not always...Well. It’s not so much like that anymore. I’ll happily give you my Nightcloak if you want it, you’re strong enough.”

 

“If I was a Nightcloak, maybe people would take me more seriously and let me take care of things that they only let you do. So then you don’t gotta work as hard.” Mika huffs out a soft breath. “That’s…the only reason I’d want one. I don’t wanna disappoint you. I…I don’t care if I mess up with anyone else, b-but when you look at me like I’m a failure, I…”

 

Shu’s lips purse. “I thought, of all people, you understood the words behind my words. I should be more clear, but...”

 

Gently, he ruffles Mika’s hair, then tugs him close. “Come here, let me tune you up.”

 

Mika’s lower lip wobbles and he lurches forward immediately, burying his face down into Shu’s neck. “I-I’m usually good at speakin’ Shu, but i-i-it was bad t…timin’,” he whispers shakily, trembling as he fists his hands into the back of Shu’s shirt. “Master, I hate this.”

 

Shu strokes him in silence for a moment, holding him close, hands surreptitiously checking for any injuries he might have missed. “Has it been worse than you imagined?” he asks softly. “I cannot think this would be a fun time, but you did a very good job of making me believe it would be all right.”

 

“I…it’s not even that, I…” Mika sniffles, drawing back to wipe his nose before it starts running on Shu. “I d-don’t even hate what I’m doin’,” he admits with a ragged laugh. “Younger me…younger me would’ve _killed_ for this, y’know? So it’s not that. I jus’…I felt s-so lonely, and useless, then you snapped at me and I kinda wanted to die. And then Kuro, he…he told me that Arashi is gettin’ married and—and I _know_ he’s gotta, but it just made it suddenly sound so much more real, you know?”

 

“Silly little crow,” Shu murmurs, continuing to run his hands carefully up and down Mika’s arms, his back, his legs. “You should know better than to listen to me when I’m speaking nonsense. And I’ll boil Kuro for telling you about that when you’re working, you weren’t supposed to hear until after you returned.”

 

“I hate that,” Mika mutters, lifting a hand up to slowly unbraid the little metal snake from his hair. “Izumin sent him, huh?” he sighs, running his thumb along the snake’s back. “You’re right, I didn’t wanna know any of that when I’m workin’, but I was freaking out pretty badly, so it’s not Kuro’s fault. Now I can’t stop thinking about it…or about Izumi, and if our—his kids are okay, and if _Arashi’s_ okay, ‘cause he really can’t do it with girls at all…”

 

Shu raises his hands, resting his fingertips at Mika’s temples. “Need me to take it away so you can sleep?” he asks. “I haven’t done that for you for years, but I daresay I’d be even better at it now.”

 

“No. I slept all afternoon, I’m supposed to go meet up with the prince, but…” Mika huffs, shoving his head into Shu’s hands. “He’s as bright as a sack of bricks, y’know? Master, why’s everyone gotta be like that.”

 

“I think everyone is an imbecile, so how should I know?” Shu asks bluntly. His hands pet more firmly, which Mika seems to enjoy. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, if you already have a meeting with him. Though that seems a little formal, weren’t you given to him as a present?”

 

“He does _not_ wanna do me,” Mika bluntly says, stilling once he’s being petted to his specifications. “And he definitely tried to set me free, before I let him know that I’m not all about that. He’s smugglin’ slaves out to safety, as far as I can tell, but he’s not real forthcomin’ about it.”

 

Shu snorts. “Would you be? If your family owned the biggest slave empire in the entire world? Maybe he isn’t a fool like you think he is. Have you given him any proof that you’re working for Rei, other than just your word?”

 

“I don’t know what kinda proof I can give him, other than my word,” Mika admits, blinking slowly back at Shu. “Maybe he’s not a fool with this kinda thing, but he’s definitely not as smart as you, so I consider that dumb.”

 

“Don’t let that be your guideline,” Shu says with a sigh. “No one is as smart as I am. You’ll go through your entire life believing that everyone around you is a dullard.” He pauses. “And you’d be right. Continue thinking that.”

 

“Yeah, I already do,” Mika lightly says. “Aaanyway, he’s real frustratin’ to talk to and is mostly concerned that I’m little and thinks I need to eat more and I warned him I’m gonna puke on him if he doesn’t stop that.”

 

“If I meet him and he does that to me, I’ll probably light him on fire,” Shu says frankly. “It’s a good thing I have you locked up tight.”

 

“It’s starting to hurt, though.” It’s not what Mika _wants_ to tell Shu about, but needs must. He huffs, flopping forward into Shu’s chest. “They’re mad. Spirits don’t like being locked up. It hurts when they start callin’…probably ‘cause it’s been so long since I’ve had to be sealed like this, but, nnn…”

 

Shu frowns, and sends a bit of power down his hands to Mika’s head, venting a bit of the built-up magical pressure into himself. It hurts, certainly, and the skin around his eyes tightens. “Ah. Is that any better? You shouldn’t be so tense, you’re far more attractive when you’re floppy.”

 

Mika breathes out a long sigh of relief, and nuzzles languidly back up into Shu’s hand, his fingers kneading slowly into his back. “Yeah…yeah, that’s better. Nnh, sorry, I know that can’t feel good for you.” His eyes lid, and his fingers stroke down Shu’s spine as he finally relaxes, feeling very much like a load of rocks has been lifted from his head. “I wonder if I could’ve gotten this far if I hadn’t bloomed,” he wistfully thinks. “I know that’s prob’ly gross for you to think about, but, I dunno, it’s about as romantic as a prostitute gets t’be down here.”

 

Shu says nothing for a moment, just petting and being petted, listening to the wind moan in the distance. Someone breaks a glass in a courtyard below, a tiny sound among the laughing, the singing. “Sometimes,” he says carefully, “and perhaps this is because my mind is ill, I will wake up in the morning and carefully plan all of the clothing I need to make. I’ll throw back my coverlet, get out of bed, move to the mirror and shave, and put on the same clothes my father wore every day of his life, the versions that I always wanted to create. Then I’ll head out the door, ready to put the day’s tasks into place...before waking up again. So, no, I don’t think it’s odd to wonder about such a thing. I planned for that life for eleven years. I can’t make that go away, just because the road changed course.”

 

He shifts, and cuddles Mika even closer, bleeding a bit more of the pain away as he talks, weaving it into the words to disperse into the air. “And perhaps that man didn’t simply never come to be. Perhaps he exists somewhere, and so does a version of you with two blue eyes and a princess’s dowry, and a version of me who’d never met Rei. If there are any other versions of me out there...I know they love you, too.”

 

“…Master, you’ve got a real way with words, you know?” When he blinks, his lashes come up wet, but they aren’t panicked, anxious tears now, so that’s a plus. “It’s selfish, maybe,” Mika softly says, his eyes lidding. “But I like to think about…mm, maybe if Rei hadn’t come to the Academy for you…I dunno. We could’ve really been somethin’.” He heaves a little sigh. “I like thinkin’ about never meetin’ Arashi a lot. Because I feel like…I made everything so much harder for him. He and Izumin would’ve been better.”

 

“Know something?” Shu presses a kiss to Mika’s temple. “I wish you’d never met him, too. Not that he isn’t good for you, but he just seems to cause you so much stress. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure both he and Izumi would be far less happy and put together without you, but...”

 

He huffs. “We would have made something very beautiful.”

 

Mika thinks less, acts more. It’s not helpful most of the time, but right now, it lands his mouth against Shu’s—even if that’s stupid, and probably a terrible idea, it feels nice all the same, because Shu is so warm and sweet-smelling and _good_ …

 

His fingers shake a little as they slide up into the ends of Shu’s hair, his nails scraping against his scalp. “Sorry,” he says with a wet little laugh. “I…sorry. Y’know, I thought…we’d be stuck in that brothel a lot longer, and I kinda got my hopes up…thinkin’ we’d get to do that.”

 

“When you imagine it,” Shu asks softly, petting Mika’s hair without pulling away at all, “how is it, in your mind? You and me?” _Sorry, my lord_ , he thinks, chagrined. It isn’t a real thought that he sends to Rei, but merely a stray musing.

 

He hadn’t told Mika of what he and Rei had done, assuming he’d have to make love to Mika in a brothel, how they’d found a clever way to throttle and block the bond until it doesn’t make him sick. What he hadn’t expected was how little it would bother him, in the moment.

 

Expecting a far more disgusted response, Mika can only blink back at Shu for a moment, his lips parting. “I…mm.” His tongue flicks out, wetting his lower lip as his gaze slides away. “I’ve always just thought about making y’feel good,” he quietly answers, then adds, a little sheepishly, “though I honestly think about it a _lot_ more with you on your back—like, uh. All of the time, whoops.”

 

Shu’s face flushes dark red. “That isn’t the kind of thing that a good little Sandlands courtesan should be imagining, is it?” The idea that it’s _all the time_ , not just since they started on this mission, makes him warm in other ways, ways that make him feel vaguely ashamed of himself.

 

“Definitely not,” Mika blithely says, an amused little smile tugging at his lips in spite of himself. “But, eh…jus’ because I’m good at bein’ on _my_ back doesn’t mean that’s the way I prefer it. So. I like thinkin’ about it.”

 

“That’s what I always suspected,” Shu admits, laughing even as his cheeks flush. “Ah...perhaps we should continue this later. Don’t you have to meet with the Prince?”

 

“Nnn…but now I’m horny,” Mika crossly grumbles, scooting closer against all good sense to press against Shu, his fingers delicately tip-toeing along the jut of Shu’s hip. “And the prince is a turn-off. Big, muscle-y guys aren’t any good.”

 

Shu grabs Mika’s hand, raising an eyebrow even as he feels a twitch down south. “What time were you supposed to meet him?” he asks sternly. “You’ve gone well over a decade without having me on my back, a few hours isn’t going to break you.”

 

“When the moon’s properly out.” Mika pouts, deliberately poking his tongue out. “I look like a mess, though. You gotta fix my hair, I scared the bunny off earlier when I felt gross.”

 

Shu rolls his eyes, then sighs. “It was properly out before I came to you. You’re supposed to be doing your job, Mika. Get up, I’ll fix you.”

 

“Well, I didn’t know that, I can’t see nothin’,” Mika grumpily complains, hauling himself up in spite of the vibrating little urge to pounce on Shu. _He’s not saying I can’t, what’s stopping me?_ “Bein’ blind is sooo stupid, but at least everyone really does think I’m helpless.”

 

Shu stands, immediately fixing up Mika’s hair to his own specifications, brushing his hands through that long batch of curls. “Yes,” he says dryly. “We were so cruel to send you without an assistant.”

 

“I told you, I scared him. I didn’t _mean_ to, I didn’t think he’d be so…that way. He stabbed a guy the other day but if I snap at him, he skitters off like a real bunny rabbit.”

 

Shu shrugs, and sets a few jewel sticks in Mika’s hair. “There aren’t too many people who fit all of Rei’s criteria--totally loyal, and would fit in in such places, not minding whatever they’d have to do. Also, he’s very, _very_ lovely.”

 

“He is real pretty,” Mika admits, hiking up the layers of chiffon around his shoulders with a sigh. “I’ll apologize to him later, I feel bad. But, mm, I guess I better go, uh…flirt with a prince or something? I dunno. Thoughts on how to convince him I’m really Rei’s? I mean, I know where Rei’s got seven moles but I guess that’s probably not the kinda proof he wants.”

 

“Probably not,” Shu agrees. “Well, that’s the kind of thing that a spy should figure out, don’t you think? Tell him who you are, how you bloomed. I hear it’s something of a legend down here.”

 

Mika winces at that as he hops to his feet. “That’ll be convincin’, at least.” He pauses, shifting where he stands for a moment before stretching up onto his tiptoes, grabbing Shu’s face in his hands and tugging him down for a slow, wet kiss. “I wanna make you feel good later,” he exhales as he rocks back down onto his heels. “If you’ll let me.”

 

Shu swallows hard. Jaw clenched tightly shut, he nods, just once. “But let us not speak of it now. I...mm. Yes. Not now. Or I won’t be able to send you away.”

 

Mika nods, releasing Shu after another moment of hesitation. “Later,” he promises, and pulls aside the curtain to make his way out into the courtyard.

 

“Excellency?”

 

Mika nearly jumps out of his skin before he reaches the pair of stairs that lead out of his room onto white stone. “It’s just you,” he exhales, trying to make his heart still. _Now who’s the rabbit?_ “Sorry, I—“

 

“It’s fine, Excellency,” Hajime reassures him, taking his arm to lead him down the stairs carefully. “I know you didn’t want to be interrupted. Um, please allow me to escort you to the prince, however, I don’t want you to get lost.”

 

Hajime does just that, bringing Mika to the fountain that Adonis had asked for him to meet at, and fortunately, he’s not too late. Mika bows, the gesture an extremely apologetic one. “My apologies for my lateness, Your Highness—I, ah. I was nervous, about meeting you.” That’s not _entirely_ wrong.

 

Adonis stands at his entrance, as if he’s a noble lady, bowing over his hand before sitting back down. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he offers, gesturing to the bench next to him. There’s a plush cushion on the warm stone, something Adonis has clearly brought with him, and a few bananas. “You didn’t seem to like the meat. So I brought bananas.”

 

Hajime bows deeply before scurrying off to…wherever he lurks, which is a mystery to Mika, quite honestly. Rei has a lot of those types, apparently. Mika hesitantly steps over, testing distance with a touch of his hand to the bench before he takes a seat, surprisingly graceful for all of his usual awkwardness. Needs must, of course. “Thank you, Highness. I’m afraid you’re spoiling me.” He glances around, for what good that does—the nightlife _has_ died down somewhat, but there still seem to be blurry shapes of humans out and about, and that’s troublesome. “Did you, ah, want to take a walk? We can sit and talk if you want, but…”

 

“I would feel remiss in forcing you to exercise before you eat,” Adonis says staunchly, peeling a banana and handing it to Mika. “Go on. We can walk afterwards. There is time, and the evening cool has just begun.”

 

“Do you…do you really think I’m that small?” Mika wearily asks, but takes the banana all the same. Yep, Shu would hate every part of this, and would absolutely set Adonis on fire. He obediently takes a bite. “Did you ever consider that you’re large instead? No offense intended, Highness.”

 

“Yes. It’s better to be large.” Adonis says it without a hint of doubt. “I’ve been small. My sisters used to terrorize me. Do you have any sisters? If so, I hope they’re small.”

 

“I don’t know,” Mika answers honestly, and takes another bite. At least bananas are easier to stomach than meat any day. “If I do, I never met them. Your sisters are very frightening and extremely tall, which was, ah, unexpected.”

 

“Yes. They used to bully me relentlessly.” Adonis watches Mika eat with satisfaction, nodding as he observes. “I’m larger now, so it isn’t as drastic. Hopefully I can protect tiny people like you.”

 

“I think I’m fairly average for someone from the Sandlands, though?” Mika pouts a little, but forces himself to finish the damned banana. “There, Highness, a start towards my growing strength underneath your care. Can we go for a walk now? I’ve been languishing for _hours_.”

 

“All right. I’m sorry. I was waiting for you,” Adonis reminds him, but stands, offering his arm.

 

 _You’re far too kind with your slaves and whores,_ Mika wants to tell him, but he bites his tongue, and instead reaches out to gingerly lay his hand on Adonis’s arm and climb to his feet. “The moon’s so bright here that it hurts even my eyes,” he quietly says. “It’s been a few years since I’ve been in the Sandlands, but that’s still the same.”

 

“Your Sandtongue is very good. Your hand is cold, though, so please warm it on my arm.” Adonis sets a slow pace, taking the winding garden path. “I hope you haven’t been unhappy here. Please tell me if anyone is bothering you.”

 

“I grew up here, so it’s nothing new. It’s just…been awhile.” Adonis _is_ a furnace, which isn’t a bad thing, especially when the night starts turning cold. Mika fights down a shiver, and pulls some of his hair over his shoulders. “This palace is honestly a dream come true,” he absently says. “When I was little, I never thought I’d see a place like this. To be a gift for a prince…ahh, I’m really not worthy. If His Majesty knew I was raised in one of the Kincardine villages, he _never_ would’ve bought me.”

 

That gets a reaction. Adonis’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Mika, nodding to himself. “You do have that look about you, I suppose. But I don’t see many people like you come from places like that.”

 

“For two reasons, hmm? No one gets out, and…well, most of it went up in smoke awhile ago, huh?” Mika idly says, blinking up at Adonis. “ _Everyone_ knows that story.”

 

Adonis shrugs. “I was too young to hear much of the news back then. I’ve heard of it, though.”

 

 _Oh, god, I’m so old._ “How…how old are you, Highness?”

 

“Probably about the same age as you, sixteen.”

 

“Oh…ah…not to correct you, but I’m…a bit older than that, I’m afraid?”

 

“Oh. I’m sixteen. How old are you?” Adonis asks, genuinely curious.

 

“About…t…twenty-four?”

 

Adonis blinks. “I’ve heard from many people that dancers always lie about their age to make themselves seem younger. Does that mean you’re really in your forties?”

 

“I’d look good for forty, I think,” Mika idly notes, his head tilting. “But no. I think my broker told your family that I was in my teens, but honesty is the best policy. _I_ think it just means I sound more experienced.”

 

Adonis nods approvingly. “I believe in honesty. I think it’s good. I also believe in...” He looks around, trying to peer into the shadows. “Freedom.”

 

Mika breathes in slowly, and forces himself to stay relaxed, his fingers only briefly curling against Adonis’s arm. “It’s a nice word,” he carefully, quietly says. “I found my own way to such a thing years ago. Do you know how?”

 

“No. I don’t think you’ve told me yet. And I haven’t spoken to anyone else about you.”

 

“I destroyed all of the Kincardine villages within a three league radius.” Mika lifts his gaze, slowing his step. “Do you speak common tongue?”

 

“No.” Adonis thinks for a moment, then slowly frowns. “I’ve heard about that event. The person that did it was a child. A wizard blooming.” He looks at Mika again, and takes in a breath. “That was...?”

 

Mika smiles up at him wryly, tilting his head. “I told you, I’m Rei’s,” he softly says. “Nooncloak Mika, at your service. I wish you spoke common tongue, we could be a _lot_ sneakier.”

 

“I can start learning it tonight,” Adonis offers. “It might take a while, though.”

 

“No…um, no, that’s fine, really, honestly. You’re just going to need to get more forward about taking me to bed so no one bothers us and my cover of being your helpless little slave stays in place.”

 

Adonis shakes his head. “I appreciate the thought, but such a thing will not work. My bedchamber is the easiest place to watch. If you wish more privacy, I can start taking you out on rides in the evenings. Do you ride?”

 

“If I have to,” Mika grouses, chewing on his lower lip as he thinks. “That’s fine, so long as we aren’t followed. Either way,” he says, instinct making him glance around even though that’s so _useless_ now, ugh, “I’m here to help. Your family…you know how involved they are in the trade, yes?”

 

“Of course. It’s a point of pride for them.” That careful impassiveness of Adonis’s face comes in handy now, as he tries not to look disappointed in his family. “I’ve always thought it was wrong. I can take you anywhere you want if we go riding. Do you want to see the auction houses?”

 

“…Not tonight.” That’s something he’s going to have to prepare for, definitely. “Do you know the names of any people particularly…involved? Don’t tell me now, just think about it,” Mika quickly adds. “I want to be able to report back to Rei and help him intercept at least some of this. Apparently, the capital is involved and…not happy.”

 

Adonis shrugs. “Some I’ve heard. But I’ve always paid more attention to the people in bondage than the ones keeping them there. I can take you to them, if you have plans.”

 

“It’s not just a matter of freeing them, it’s a matter of stopping it completely.” Mika’s head cocks, and he backs up. “Wait. You think the capital…no, I was sent down here because the someone in the south took children from the capital—that’s why the crown wants to capture the traders and free everyone, they aren’t part of this.”

 

Adonis grimaces, leading Mika around a fruit tree. “Please don’t think I am weak for what I’m about to tell you.”

 

 _You’re sixteen, how much can I really judge you?_ “…O…kay,” Mika warily replies. “Go on, then?”

 

The duck of Adonis’s head is shame, couldn’t be anyone else. “I...avoid the places that deal in children,” he admits. “I couldn’t see such things and not do something. I know it’s not as much as I could be doing. I’m sorry.”

 

 _Thought retracted._ Mika forces himself not to even blink, however, and he shrugs. “Then it’s good I’m here,” he says instead, glancing down to his hands, where he picks at fine gauzy silk. “I’ve lived that life. I don’t mind involving myself directly if I have to. Rei sent me for that reason, so perhaps between the two of us, we can accomplish something.”

 

Adonis’s smile is grateful, and he takes Mika’s hand, squeezing it very gently. “I’ll do whatever helps,” he promises. “But if you make me see a child in distress, I won’t promise not to help it however I can.”

 

“If you compromise all of this by being a big idiot, I’ll be very annoyed,” Mika lightly replies in turn, patting the back of Adonis’s hand. “You have to live to kick your family out of this place and take over for a far better rule. The Sandlands can’t handle another generation of leadership that not only allows this kind of trade, but _likes_ it.”

 

“Yes, I know. I had a plan in place,” Adonis points out, disappointment coloring his tone. “But then this aggressive move took us by surprise.”

 

Something stirs in a nearby bush, and he stops talking. Nothing comes again, but the panic is real, and Adonis leads Mika away, saying loudly, “We will go for a pleasant ride tomorrow evening. I’ll send you a servant to help you into riding clothes.”

 

Mika nods, clinging back to Adonis’s arm and deliberately nuzzling up to his shoulder. Adonis is warm and the night is already chilly, so why not? “I look forward to it, Highness,” he softly says, squeezing Adonis’s arm. “You really are spoiling me. Let me actually spoil you for a change, too—tomorrow, after our ride, perhaps?”

 

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” Adonis says bluntly. “Good night.” Then he walks off, leaving Mika next to Hajime.

 

“He makes me wanna scream,” Mika deadpans in common tongue. “Can’t he even play along?”

 

“The prince is, um, very…particular, isn’t he?” Hajime manages, taking Mika’s hands. “Maybe you just aren’t…”

 

“To his taste? I think that bit’s obvious,” Mika huffs, letting Hajime guide him back inside, where it’s still chilly in the night, but at least somewhat safer. His heart still won’t stop thudding hard in his chest, but hopefully that will pass. “Master? You didn’t leave, did you?”

 

“Where would I go?”

 

Shu’s voice is quiet from the darkness, as if he hasn’t spent the last hour watching Mika through the courtyard window, making sure that nothing awful happens to him. “Surely, I knew you could do _this_ much.”

 

“Debatable,” Mika bemoans, even if there’s relief in his voice. Hajime lights an oil lamp in the corner, offering dim light cast across the room, and Mika moodily grabs for the sticks and pins in his hair, tugging them free. “He’s drivin’ me nuts. I came back to the Sandlands to be a whore, why won’t anyone just let me be a whore?”

 

“Hajime, if that’s your name? Run a bath, an extremely hot one,” Shu orders, taking the pins from Mika and setting them gently aside in his jewel box. “You should know better. Didn’t you once tell me that being good at being a whore was only a little bit between the sheets, and the rest was about how you influence people? Something in your quaint, charming way. Surely you’re using those skills.”

 

“I mean, _yeah_ , but…ugh. It’s still frustratin’. Maybe I’m out of practice,” Mika glumly says, raking a hand back through his hair to better shake it out with a heaving sigh. “He’s sixteen. _Sixteen_ , Master, and really acts like it. It’s also real hard to influence someone that doesn’t find you attractive at all.”

 

The sound of splashing water makes Mika jump even if he expects it, and he huffs, rubbing at his chilled arms. “It ain’t fair that it gets cold here at night, I wanna melt, not freeze.”

 

“I’d think you’d be used to it by now,” Shu says with a sigh, wrapping his arms around Mika, pulling him close. “Honestly, you should be grateful this prince isn’t trying to crawl between your thighs all the time. Wouldn’t that be more distracting, and stop you from doing what you came here to do?”

 

“Nah, it helps me focus,” Mika confesses happily as he snuggles his way into Shu’s arms, burying his face into his neck. “And I’m pretty good at makin’ people do whatever I want once I fuck them a few times, jus’ look at Arashi and Izumin.”

 

Shu snorts. “They are foolish and easily-led, ha! Ah, be gentle, my shoulder aches horribly.” And his fingers are full of splinters and holes, and his knee feels as if it’s been frozen in place.

 

“You mean they’re men. That’s what you’re tryin’ t’say,” Mika teases, his fingers sliding down Shu’s arms to gingerly take his hands. “If it’s too hard on you t’be here, it’s…it’s not like you have to stay. I mean—physically and…yeah.” _Because of the name I’m literally just not going to say._

 

One of the curtains rustle, and Hajime pokes his head out. “The bath’s ready, Excellency,” he calls, and Mika gives Shu’s hands a light tug.

 

“If you’re achy, bathe with me. C’mon, you can’t say no, you’ll feel better.”

 

“I suppose.” Shu carefully shucks his robes and folds them, then his undergarments as well. Not for the first time, he feels incredibly self-conscious when totally nude, and he quickly moves to the bathtub, hopping into the water as quickly as he can without splashing. He hisses out a breath as the water seeps into the splinters in his fingers, fingernails attempting to pick out each tiny sliver. “It’s very, very hot,” he calls. “You’ll love it.”

 

Mika slinks into the water only a few seconds later, layers of silk discarded carelessly on the floor in his wake. “You’re right,” he breathes, sliding all the way into the water opposite Shu, propping his feet up onto the side of the tub next to Shu’s shoulders. “I’m gonna die here.”

 

“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call me,” Hajime softly says, bowing once and leaving a small pile of towels behind before he pulls the curtain shut behind himself.

 

“D’you have a needle? I can help get those out. I know, why let the blind whore do it, but I swear I can feel things like that even more when I can’t see worth a damn,” Mika says with a little shrug, wriggling his painted toes as he sticks his feet out of the water once more. “Nn, Master, the Sandlands aren’t so bad, right? I’d live down here all the time if it weren’t so…y’know.”

 

“I know.” Shu relaxes back against the edge of the tub, letting the hot water ease his aches. “It’s very lovely,” he says, in careful, slow Sandtongue. The language is very pretty, and he likes throwing in the occasional word now and then, along with his occasional word or two of Shadowtongue. But the sentence structure is difficult, and he will only attempt that when alone with Mika. “There are few parts that I find distasteful. Your company is not one.”

 

He beams, and switches back to Common. “Ha! I’m getting very good at the inflection.”

 

“You really are!” Mika excitedly praises, trying not to splash in his enthusiasm, though it’s difficult, when Shu actually does things like this. “It sounds real pretty when you speak it, Master. See, you could fit in down here just fine, though you gotta be careful in the sun, you’d burn.”

 

“Yes, it isn’t my first time seeing the outdoors,” Shu says dryly. “I am familiar with the concept of the sun in a general sense. Mm, I still strive to attain your level of grace with the tongue, of course. The way you sing in it is particularly delightful.”

 

“The sun here’s a million times worse if you go out in the middle of the day, that’s why I’m warnin’ you—you get distracted and don’t think about it, I know how y’are.” Mika pokes him with one foot, wiggling his toes again. “Master’s being real sweet, complimentin’ me like that, but…I always used to think common tongue was way prettier,” he admits. “I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause I could speak it okay by the time I got taken to the Academy. I used to make my favorite customers talk to me in it, I must’ve been the most annoying whore, heh.”

 

“It is a decently intelligent language, of course. And it’s the most suitable for writing, whereas Sandtongue is far more melodical, and therefore tonal.” Shu brushes a hand lightly against the bottom of Mika’s foot, tickling him. “But you’ve heard me talk about that plenty. How’s the food, being back?”

 

Mika bites down on a squeal, withdrawing his foot in a hurry (and with a little slosh of water over the side of the tub). “I like it when you talk about that kinda stuff, though. Nnn, if it were up to me, I’d jus’ eat the cheap sweets and stuff they sell on the street all the time here…the meat’s no good and too heavy in the heat, besides. I jus’ want sweet things.”

 

“You really are always the same, aren’t you?” Shu asks fondly. He cups water in his hand, then dumps it onto Mika’s head. “Work the soap all the way in, Mika. It wouldn’t do to be _greasy_.”

 

“Do it for me,” Mika complains, launching himself forward to flop into Shu’s chest—mindful of his shoulder, but plastering himself against Shu all the same. “Master always does it best, I got too much hair.”

 

Shu winces, but starts to work the special oiled soap through Mika’s hair, starting at the scalp. “Don’t be too worried about me, I’m just doing a bit of work. I’m unaccustomed to certain motions, and the wood down here is quite different than what I usually use. Toymaking isn’t so easy as everyone thinks.”

 

“You need a minty-fresh Izumin right about now,” Mika murmurs, his eyes lidding as Shu’s fingers drag against his scalp. He slumps forward, burying his face firmly into Shu’s neck. “But he ain’t here, so if you need a massage or something, I can do it. I bet everything you’ve been makin’ is real pretty. Master’s the best at everything he does, so…”

 

“Of course I am. But this isn’t exactly...my expertise.” Shu offers a pained smile, working the soap through Mika’s hair, swirling the water around the ends. “How goes it with the prince, by the way? I know you said he won’t take you to bed, but what does he know?”

 

“He’s going to show me the auction houses tomorrow. Said he would tonight if I wanted, but honestly, I gotta have at least a day to get my mind on track for seein’ somethin’ like that.” Mika exhales, shutting his eyes. “He won’t go in and deal with the stuff with kids. Too afraid of blowin’ cover and stuff, he says. But I think he knows at least a few people involved, so that’s a start, right?”

 

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Shu admits. “Rei didn’t send us with the most complete guidelines for what to do. I think that should help, but honestly, that’s the sort of information he can get many ways. I’m sure he expects you to do something a bit special.”

 

“…My real plan was to try and get in an act as a broker myself,” Mika admits, though the though makes his stomach flip. “Slaves within high ranks are usually the best ones, ‘cause they can’t really get paid except in privileges, and they’re usually the most desperate, besides. But I can’t do that kinda thing unless the prince, y’know, helps me fake that I wanna get into tradin’…” He sighs, slinking slowly back down into the water. “Maybe I really am useless.”

 

Shu shrugs. “It’s possible,” he admits. “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s entirely possible that our task is simply too difficult, or outside our skill set. It’s possible Rei’s information was wrong, and the Sandlands weren’t even behind the raids. No one expects you to be able to work miracles, Mika.”

 

“I expect it,” Mika mumbles, his tongue poking out as he flops into Shu’s chest, staring up at him. “Even if the Sandlands ain’t behind these raids, there’s still a lot of tradin’ and they’re ignoring the king’s laws and stuff. Someone’s gotta do somethin’ about it.”

 

“And we will. We’re doing valuable work, even if it doesn’t seem like it yet.” Shu pauses as something occurs to him. “By the way, I think your Sandtongue might be a bit outdated. I believe I used an old expression today that made the court laugh, and some of the slang has passed you by.”

 

Mika blinks up at him, and his brow furrows. “Eh? I don’t think so…the prince ain’t said nothin’ to me about me speaking wrong, and he _would._ Or at least, someone around him would.”

 

“No, I’m quite sure,” Shu says firmly. “For example, for the sort of sanding technique I use, I was using _sakkon_ , but the person I talked to referred to it as _sakkendon_. I dislike being giggled at, so please discover the source of this shift.”

 

Mika pauses, stares at Shu for a moment longer, and then, something obviously dawns on him. “Oooooh. Oh. Hmm. I see.”

 

Shu cocks his head. “Yes?”

 

“Soo…you know how…Sandtongue,” Mika slowly begins, leaning back slightly. “Has like. A bunch of different forms, dependin’ on who you talk to and how polite you wanna be?”

 

“No,” Shu says, what he thinks of as very patiently. “I did not know that, because you never told me that.”

 

“Oh…I thought…I thought Rei would’ve told you, ‘cause he’s fluent and…uh…doesn’t speak the kinda Sandtongue I do.”

 

Very deliberately, Shu reaches into the water, cups his hands together, then releases it on top of Mika’s head. “Explain.”

 

Mika laughs nervously, blinking water from his eyes. “So the thing about whores in the Sandlands—we’ve got our own way of speakin’. Courtesan’s tongue, y’know? And, uh, if you don’t wanna die, you never learn the other ways of talkin’. Like, you don’t teach your kids the ‘normal’ way if those kids are gonna be in this kinda work the rest of their life. And even courtesan’s tongue has got different types…and…uhh…I try real hard to speak like a fancy one, ‘cause, well, I’ll probably get my head chopped off otherwise here.”

 

“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Shu says, as calmly as he can manage. “I, infiltrating as a King’s toymaker, blending with the elite...have been using slang that will mark me irrevocably as a prostitute? The _entire_ time? And _no one told me?_ ”

 

“I didn’t even think about it!” Mika protests, sitting back with a little huff. “Why would I? I _can’t_ speak th’ other way, I don’t even know how. Rei shoulda told you, he’s…y’know, now that I say it, I ain’t even surprised.”

 

Shu huffs so loudly that the water splashes around him, some of the embarrassed heat leaching off his skin and warming the tub back to its hottest. If his seals hadn’t been in place, he’d likely have set something on fire. “I’ll be saying something to him,” he snarls. “How is anyone supposed to take me seriously like this?”

 

“It ain’t like it’s rude!” Mika hastily says, grabbing for Shu’s hands and squeezing them. “ _Honestly._ They…they might think that you were a whore back in th’ day or somethin’, but _seriously_ , Master, it ain’t that bad…um, if anything it’s…ah…it’s real, what’s the word, submissive?” He knows the word, but if he bats his eyelashes and looks pathetic, maybe Shu will think he’s cute and stop snarling. “So that’s even _more_ respectful to the royal family and stuff.”

 

That calms Shu before he can start to hyperventilate, thinking about the humiliation he’d been suffering without even _realizing_ it. “...Very well. I suppose Rei doesn’t need to die today. He will still die by my hand, of course.”

 

“H…he probably thought it was sexy,” Mika manages with a little giggle. “I mean, it is kinda, hearin’ something like that come out of someone like you’s mouth…”

 

Shu cocks his head. “Is it? Explain. I want to know exactly what kind of impression I’m giving off. Spare no details.”

 

“Mmnnn…prob’ly the best way to describe it is like…okay, you know th’ phrase ‘I look forward to being of service to you’?” Mika seamlessly switches from common to sand tongue, then back again: “I’m sure you’ve said it a few times to whoever you’re answerin’ to, right? Well…uhh…the way they’re hearin’ it, if you’re using courtesan’s tongue, it’s more like…’servicing you is the only thing I can think about’, soo you literally sound like you wanna…y’know.”

 

“....Oh. Ah.”

 

Shu’s face flushes, and he has to turn away, imagining so many times he’s said those words, and the light in the eyes of those he’s said them to. There’s a stirring of heat elsewhere in his body, but he doesn’t want to think about that too hard. “Am I running the risk of anyone...taking me up on that offer?”

 

“I mean, it’s the Sandlands…but you’re not a whore, you can still refuse ‘em,” Mika lightly says, unable to stop from being amused now. He scoots forward again, the water sloshing a bit over the edges of the tub. “If you said that kinda thing to Rei, I bet he fell down a little,” he teases. “No wonder he didn’t wanna tell you the normal way of talkin’, it’s lewd.”

 

“By my hand, he will die,” Shu vows again, sinking down until the water comes up around his chin, face still burning. “I’m really very embarrassed, you know! How am I supposed to let my usual bravado affect those around me now?”

 

“At least y’talk like an _expensive_ whore,” Mika laughs, flopping forward against Shu and nuzzling his face into his hair. “So they prob’ly think you’ve got enough drive t’get the fuck out of whatever you were doin’ before…that’s intimidatin’ in its own right, most whores don’t do that.”

 

As flushed and sensitive as he is, Mika’s nuzzling is enough to send him into an embarrassed shiver. “Stop,” he protests, pushing ineffectually at Mika’s shoulder. “You’re too much...”

 

“I’m barely doin’ _anything_ ,” Mika huffs, and instead of pulling away, his arms snake around Shu’s shoulders as he settles down against him. “The water’s gettin’ cold, Master,” he sighs, deliberately squirming between Shu’s thighs. “Maaaybe we should move to bed, hmm? I can teach you more lewd things to say to Rei~…”

 

Shu’s mouth goes dry even when the rest of him is soaking wet. Without hardly meaning to, he rises from the bath, swallowing hard as he towels off. His heart thuds, and he says, before he can think better of it, “I’ve only ever slept with him, you know. I might do something wrong. You might not like it.”

 

“Yeah, doubt that,” Mika hums, eagerly scrambling out of the tub after him and snatching up a towel. His hair’s a lost cause, and _going_ to stay wet for hours, but the rest of him is easily bundled in a towel before he grabs for Shu’s hand. “Even jus’ kissin’ you is enough,” he seriously says. “But if you let me, I’ll do other things. I just wanna make you feel good.”

 

Shu lets his fingers curl around Mika’s hand, and he breathes in deeply, then out again. The nausea doesn’t come, and that bolsters his confidence, letting him pull Mika close. It’s not the all-consuming desire of his resonant bond, but it’s somehow more delightful, easier to handle. It’s the difference between a warm spring breeze and standing next to a blazing fire. The fire is warmer, certainly, but this is highly relaxing, blowing exotic scents to his nose. Slowly, he nods, and steps in close, lowering his lips to Mika’s.

 

Mika exhales a soft breath as he stretches up onto his toes, his mouth pressing against Shu’s with a pleased little sound. His towel drops back to the ground, _entirely_ unnecessary when he laces his fingers together with Shu’s and lets his teeth gently scrape against Shu’s lower lip, his tongue soon to follow in a playful little swipe. “Good?” he breathes, his eyes lidding. “If it gets to be too much…you’ll tell me, right?”

 

Shu moves suddenly, grabbing Mika’s face, cupping it in both hands. “Don’t listen to me if I say it’s too much,” he warns, eyes flashing. “I won’t say this again. Do you understand me?”

 

Mika’s lips part, protests dying on his tongue as he nods, quickly backing up and dragging Shu with him towards the bed. “Got it,” he eagerly says, his breath hitching excitedly. It’s wrong of him, probably, to want this so much, especially when Shu is bonded, when Arashi is off getting _married_ , when he’s supposed to be here working—but he’s wanted to climb into Shu’s bed since the moment Shu saved him, and none of that was true at the time…so how wrong can it _really_ be?

 

A little shove, and Mika dumps Shu down into his bed and quickly pounces afterward, crawling up between Shu’s legs to kiss him again, his fingers dragging down along Shu’s sides, tracing over his ribs. “Master,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering. The chill in the air is easily ignored when mixed with the scent of oils and incense and Shu’s damp skin, and it makes his mouth that much more eager to kiss the breath right out of Shu’s lungs.

 

“T-too fast,” Shu gasps, though he doesn’t push Mika away. If anything, he lets his thighs part faster, so far that each knee touches the bed. His breath catches in his throat, and it feels as if his heart is pounding in his cock. He reaches up, letting his hands rest on Mika’s back. “You really are far too thin,” he whispers, fingertips dragging over Mika’s spine, his ribs. But it’s hard to remember what he should be focused on when Mika’s lips taste so sweet, and Shu nips at them, tongue dragging over them. “I want you...to do the things you promised.”

 

Mika exhales a pleased, rumbling little noise into Shu’s mouth before he shoves his tongue past those soft lips, dragging the tip of his tongue against the roof of Shu’s mouth before he sucks on Shu’s tongue. He wriggles down, his fingers splaying against the insides of Shu’s thighs to keep them apart, and his breath catches in his chest, his pulse pounding in his ears, making his cock twitch and ache between his legs. “I’m all yours tonight,” he murmurs, switching seamlessly to Sandtongue, unable to help it when he _had_ promised to whisper lewd things into Shu’s ear. “Mnn…and Master, you’re all mine, aren’t you?” His mouth slides from Shu’s, dragging to his neck inside with hot, wet kisses before he bites gently, then sucks, intent on leaving a mark in spite of any protests.

 

A gasping whimper escapes Shu’s throat. Usually around this time Rei would be throwing him into a wall, or into the bed, likely already sliding into him. He loves it, he _does_ , but this...

 

This is _nice_ , too.

 

That thought feels traitorous, but he can’t stop himself, and he drags the pads of his fingertips gently down Mika’s back, soft little pants echoing in the quiet room. “I-if there’s anything...you’ve ever wanted to do,” he whispers, forgetting to pretend like they usually do that he hasn’t wanted this for years. “Take what you want tonight, please...”

 

Mika shudders, his toes curling when his forehead briefly knocks against Shu’s shoulder. It’s _hard_ to think about what specifically he’s ever wanted to do—pinpointing one thing is impossible, honestly, and even harder to figure out when Shu’s touching him, and making noises like that—but one thing is certain: Shu’s hands feel _so_ nice, and Mika can feel his skin twitch underneath that touch, a little rumbling, content noise. “Everything,” he murmurs, nuzzling up underneath Shu’s chin, his hair tumbling forward over his shoulders as he rubs up against him, fingers gently squeezing against Shu’s thighs. “I want…to do everything. Master, you’re so beautiful, I’m glad I finally look beautiful when we get to do this.”

 

That brings a small snort of amusement to Shu’s lips, and he grabs Mika gently by the hair, tugging him into a slow, heated kiss. “You look very lovely,” he whispers, petting the long, flyaway strands, removing each jeweled hairstick in turn, setting them on the table. “But if I thought you were less beautiful in your everyday appearance, I would change it.”

 

He flushes, and looks down, away from Mika’s searching eyes. “The Mika I see every day is my favorite one, of course.”

 

Mika’s lower lip wobbles, and he fights back the sudden shock of tears to his eyes. “You’re gonna make me cry, that’s not sexy,” he bemoans, quickly grabbing for Shu’s face to kiss him again, sucking Shu’s tongue into his mouth and letting his teeth gently scrape over it before releasing him. “I wanted to kiss you since the first week I met you,” he eagerly whispers, his fingers dragging back through Shu’s hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. “And…and everything else, but mostly, I _really_ wanted to kiss you, and feel your hands on me, I’ve always liked the way you touch me…”

 

“I love touching you.”

 

The words feel dragged out of him, and Shu groans, lurching up to press fluttering butterfly kisses all over Mika’s face, his neck, his shoulder. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he whispers, touching Mika’s hair as gently as he’s ever touched his glass figures, feeling the same awe of delicate creation. “Look at you. You’re ridiculous, aren’t you? We must be doing this in any other world, ever since we met.”

 

“I’m pretty ridiculous, yeah,” Mika breathlessly agrees, a wry smile on his lips when he pulls back, forcing his eyes to focus on Shu’s face. It’s fuzzy at the edges, but still Shu, and Mika licks at his own lips before he butts his head up into the touch on his hair. “That’s a nice thought,” he wistfully says, wriggling up a bit to paw blindly (literally) at his bedside table, plucking up a bottle of oil by simply feeling the weight of it alone. “That we’re doing this in some other world. Nn, it’s selfish, but…I wouldn’t _mind_ having you all to myself…”

 

“Natsume...showed me, once,” Shu breathes. He closes his eyes, unable to look at Mika’s hands when they’re doing something so _lewd_ , though he’s certain that he’s done a thousand lewder things before this. But before that, it’s always been with Rei, who knows him better than he knows himself, who knows what he’ll love by sheer telepathy, who knows how to touch him as if he’s been born with the knowledge. With Mika, every touch is a surprise, dragging startled noises out of him, and it makes him shudder down to his toes. “One of the other worlds. Where I get to touch you as much as I like.”

 

“I mean…you can, now. All you want.” That _has_ to be true if they’re even doing this much. Before Rei, Mika had been clingy, but unable to do much (no matter how he’d _wanted to_ ), for fear of punishment. And after Rei…it had been even more frustrating, but at least Arashi had been a distraction. Arashi isn’t here right now, though; Shu _is_. Shu is, and Shu is letting him do whatever he wants, which is almost overwhelming in how much Mika _wants_ that.

 

His fingers shake when he forces himself to sit back, shoving his hair back over his shoulders before he uncorks the oil bottle and tips it over his fingers. “You like this kinda thing a lot, right?” he murmurs, reaching back between Shu’s legs, pinning one of his thighs to the bed with one hand as the other drags a pair of slick fingers against Shu’s hole. “Rei probably doesn’t get to take his time and watch you squirm when he does this. I can, though.”

 

“I feel like.....I’ve never really done it before.”

 

Shu lets his lips fall open, head rolling as his back arches of the bed. His legs shiver as he tries to spread them further. His hips start to ache from how wide his thighs are parted, but he ignores that pain, hoping his squirming is something that Mika doesn’t hate. “I...I’m getting to the point that...”

 

Mika’s fingers feel _good_ , sinfully hot inside of him, stretching his hole so widely that it steals his breath, tears pricking at his eyes. “Mika...how long are you going to--I’ve never for...”

 

“Long enough for you to feel good,” Mika hums distractedly, his tongue poking out between his lips as he loses focus on anything _but_ how hot Shu feels inside when he wriggles his fingers inside to the second knuckle. He curls them back towards himself, stroking slowly. “It’s no good if you don’t come like this at least _once_.” He lurches up again, mouthing at Shu’s neck, his teeth grazing skin this time as he twists his fingers inside with a little shiver raking down his own spine. “Ahh, you’re also _really_ tight, Master, so there’s no way…”

 

Shu’s whole body feels like it’s flushed pink, and he struggles to turn over, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it when he can’t move that far. “I--it’s good to be--don’t be a little fool, you know how much I can...”

 

Rei is bigger than Mika, he’d be an idiot not to notice, but...but Mika’s fingers are so clever and strong, so talented as they play him like an instrument, and he squirms pathetically, pressing himself down. “Just--a little further in,” he pleads in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll--if you do, I will--”

 

“Just ‘cause you can take a lot doesn’t mean you _should_ until it feels good,” Mika murmurs, his eyes lidded as he obliges all the same, gripping Shu’s hip to hold him in place as he shoves his fingers deeper. The tips of his fingers drag against something firm, textured, and he grins, stroking over that same spot again, slow and deliberate. “Like that, Master? Listen to you, you sound like you’re really enjoying yourself now~…”

 

Shu’s cheeks flush dark red in a heartbeat, and his back arches so far that he comes clean off the bed, rocking up in a spasm that makes his vision white out, his entire body convulsing in startled pleasure. Only Rei has ever touched him there--it had felt too cheap and paltry to do it himself after meeting Rei, and before that he’d never felt the hunger strongly enough to break prohibitions.

 

When he comes to his senses, heart thudding against his chest, hair limp with sweat, Mika is a blurry figure in his vision, one he reaches out for. His belly is wet with his release, and he flops back onto the bed, hands clenching and unclenching pathetically. He isn’t here to complain about Rei--the man is half of his heart and soul, and doesn’t deserve that. But at the same time... “I didn’t know it could feel like that,” he whispers, and shoves his face back into the pillow.

 

Mika sucks in a slow, ragged breath, and reaches down between his own legs, giving his cock a squeeze to calm himself down for a hot damned minute. He’s waited this long, he can wait a bit longer, but Shu is a real test of patience when he looks like—like _this_ , all disheveled and sweaty and satisfied, sprawled over _his_ bed. “Y-yeah,” Mika manages with a breathless little laugh, swallowing hard. “Rei probably…probably never gets to take his time because you look like this, Master. Can’t even blame him.”

 

He plants a hand next to Shu’s head as he lurches forward, refusing to pull his hand out just yet, and his fingers gently twist inside again, petting Shu from the inside out as he sucks on the lobe of his ear, then bites down. “You just…you look like you need to be ravished,” Mika breathes, trembling from his own overstimulation now, his cock achingly hard as it rubs against the sticky mess on Shu’s own belly. “And the way you move—you’re begging for it.”

 

“All right.” Another tear squeezes out of Shu’s clenched eyes, and he lets his nails dig into the pillow. “Go on. I’m ready.”

 

His body is already twitching and trembling, and Rei’s never been able to last longer than a few seconds when Shu gives him the final nod. There’s a soft indolence to the way his muscles feel, and he sags down to the bed. “Just move me where you want me,” he mumbles.

 

“Mmm…right here’s good, for now.” Mika’s voice is breathy and overeager, but he reins himself in, enough to pull his trembling fingers free and grab for the oil again. “Sorry,” he apologizes, dripping oil into his palm and then over his cock, trying not to let his touch linger for too long when he’s already aching. “I know it doesn’t feel good when you’re empty after all that…but I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

 

Mika slides up closer between Shu’s long legs, easing them around his waist as he stretches up to nuzzle underneath Shu’s chin. The head of his cock rubs against that slick hole, and for as tight and tense as Shu had been earlier, it’s _much_ easier to press inside now, slowly sinking inside bit by bit, everything hot and slick and _easy._ Mika muffles a groan into Shu’s chest, his hands dropping down to the bed for leverage, painted nails curling into the fabric as that sound turns to a breathy whine when he shifts between Shu’s thighs, scooting his knees up closer, sinking in deeper. “Master— _Shu_ , you feel soo good, you’re perfect…”

 

 _When’s the last time you got to do this?_ Shu wonders, with the tiny sliver of his brain dedicated to anything other than accommodating that stretch. Mika isn’t as large as Rei, not even close, but for the moment, that feels even _better_ with how overstimulated and shivery he is. His legs feel like they ache from how wide they’re spread, and he clenches down, savoring the slow push inside of him, how Mika seems to drag out every delicious feeling with the soft pulses of his cock. “I want you in me forever,” he mumbles, dropping a hand to palm his own soft cock, coaxing it back to hardness.

 

“T-then I’ll stay in you forever.” It’s easy to say in the moment, but the prospect of _not_ coming too soon is a looming fear, and Mika sucks in a ragged breath, burying his face briefly down into Shu’s shoulder as he stills, trying to get his bearings. “Sorry,” he whispers in apology again, his breath hiccuping up in his chest. “Wanted to do this for—ah—a really long time, you’re…you’re _so_ perfect, Master…”

 

Just thinking about it is too much and makes his cock throb, dripping inside of Shu, and Mika hastily pushes Shu’s hand away, pinning it down to the bed as his own takes over, his thumb dragging from the tip to root of Shu’s cock. “You deserve to feel good,” he breathes, lurching up to suck on the side of Shu’s neck as he rocks in slowly. “L-let me do everything, please…”

 

A whimper forces its way out of Shu’s throat, and he bites his lip, throwing the pillow to the side off the bed. “You’ve got to,” he groans, letting Mika pin him down, feeling his skin prickle and flush every time he squirms, feeling Mika’s hand on his wrist. “I can’t--I can’t do anything, you have to,” he groans, fingers clenching in futile desperation.

 

If he’s being honest with himself, in a lot of ways, being surrounded by Mika’s perfume-scented embrace is more enjoyable than any other experience he’s ever had. He can actually feel every move, instead of being entirely overwhelmed by the sensations radiating along his bond. “Kiss me,” he pleads quietly, blinking tear-frosted eyelashes up at Mika.

 

Mika immediately lunges up to do as he’s told, catching up Shu’s mouth with his own. It’s sloppy, _far_ from precise when he sucks on Shu’s tongue, his own dragging along the roof of Shu’s mouth when he tastes him thoroughly, and it muffles his own ragged, breathy groans when he thrusts in, harder now when he feels Shu harden in his hand. His fingers abandon Shu’s cock, letting it be trapped between them instead, rubbing against Mika’s skin when he presses down against Shu. “That’s good, right?” he pants out between kisses, lapsing helplessly into his native tongue, unable to process anything else when Shu feels so _good_. His fingers tremble as they curl around Shu’s wrists, holding him down to make him _feel_ every single long, deep thrust. “L…let me hear your voice, Master…”

 

“C-can’t,” Shu sobs, kicking his legs pathetically, feeling himself spasm around the thick intrusion, wriggling pathetically under Mika’s touch with every passing second. “It’s--embarrassing, someone could hear, this is already--at least turn me over, I want to--”

 

Mika’s cock rubs against something so beautiful deep inside him that his voice spikes into a high squeak, then falls into a guttural groan that sounds nothing like his usual self. “Ahhh, Mika, _please_ , I’m--almost going to--”

 

“Good, let them hear,” Mika pants against Shu’s mouth, his fingers squeezing tight around Shu’s wrists when he grinds in again, deliberately angled to thrust and rub against that same spot, holding himself there in spite of how he aches. “Maybe I’ll turn you over and do this again after we’re done,” he whispers, nipping at Shu’s trembling lower lip as he pulls back for air, sweat trickling down his spine as he thrusts in again and again, relentless when he can feel Shu clench and shudder around him. “No one would expect someone like you to like that so much, but—but I know, really, _you_ want to call someone ‘master’, don’t you? Because then you can really be taken care of—“

 

A cry twists up out of Shu, and his toes curl so hard they pop, his entire body spasming in ecstasy. Every touch of Mika’s lips is a sinful pleasure, sparking a chain reaction in his body and mind that makes his face scrunch into a rictus of pleasure. There’s little that spurts out, and this orgasm leaves him shaky and raw, a messy puddle of human-shaped goo on the bed. He shifts weakly, hips rocking, hole tightening and spasming so hard it stings, making his eyes leak. “Come in me,” he breathes, though just saying the words makes his nipples tingle. “You’ve been saving it for me, haven’t you?”

 

 _Come in me—_ hearing those words from _Shu’s_ mouth makes Mika swallow hard, his breath catching, his cock throbbing, and there’s _nothing_ to stop him when he shoves in hard, burying his cock inside until their skin slaps together, sticking together with sweat and sweetly perfumed oil.

 

Mika bites his lip when he comes, muffling the noises from his own throat as he spills long and hard, every pulse filling Shu more and more, until he slowly slumps down, trembling as he lies against Shu, his fingers finally unclenching from where they grip Shu’s wrists tightly. “You…feel so good,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut. “Really, I never wanna pull out, Master…”

 

Shu sniffs, turning to butt his face into Mika’s chest, mouthing softly over the sweaty skin of his chest. “Stings,” he whispers. With Rei, he always feels the compulsion to act tough, to pretend that he can take as much as Rei wants to give, even when he feels battered and broken, as if his bones are glass and his joints are wax. With Mika... “Hold me, please...”

 

Saying he never wants to pull out means pretty much nothing when Shu acts even slightly uncomfortable, and so Mika immediately shifts, forcing himself to move. He eases out with a hiss of breath and wriggles up alongside Shu instead, tugging Shu’s back to his chest as he nuzzles his face into his hair. “Better?” he murmurs, curling his arms around Shu’s waist to gently squeeze him. “I’ll clean you up in a minute, okay?”

 

“You can have me again in a minute,” Shu murmurs, reaching up to pet Mika’s hair. “It’s just.....nicer...to have a little break between.”

 

“Mmnn? We don’t gotta go again, I’m good.” Mika nuzzles further into Shu’s hair. “Unless you wanna. But you seem pretty done, so you can just relax now.”

 

A shudder of relief goes through Shu, and he stuffs his face further into Mika’s chest. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be useless, I’ll get you off again before sleep.”

 

Mika blinks a few times, then reaches for Shu’s face, lifting it out of his chest for a moment. “Master. I, uh. I’m not like Rei. I know you’ve never been with anyone else,” he hastily adds. “So you probably think he’s normal. But he _ain’t._ ”

 

“I had some idea that he wasn’t normal,” Shu admits softly. “The whole...sex wizard thing. But I still...want to be what he wants.”

 

“Between being a sex wizard and a half-blood, it’s kinda…” Mika trails off with a flutter of one hand, and shifts, rolling away enough to fish out a clean cloth from his bedside table. “Turn over,” he instructs, gently easing Shu onto his stomach. “He gets like, super focused on it, right? Like he literally can’t stop himself.”

 

Shu rolls easily, flopping down on his stomach. His body tenses slightly, convinced through muscle memory that he’ll feel something hard and thick nudging at his hole in a second. “He can’t. Not his fault.”

 

“Mm, yeah.” Mika throws a leg over the back of Shu’s thighs, perching there as he drags the cloth down Shu’s back, mopping up sweat before delving gently between his legs to clean up the mess of oil and semen. “Izumin gets like that, too. Sometimes it’s nice, but other times, it’s waaay too much. He’s easier to hold down and smack around, though…”

 

“Rei likes that kind of--”

 

Shu’s voice breaks into a squeak when Mika touches him so intimately, but in such a gentle, businesslike manner that he isn’t sure how to move. His thighs tremble, and his forehead presses into the bed, leaving a spot of sweat behind. “L-likes that kind of thing,” he finishes on a gasp. “Just another way...he needs someone else, too.”

 

“You gotta relax, Master,” Mika gently teases, but he finishes up as quickly as he can, tossing the cloth aside and picking up another clean one to finish wiping up Shu’s thighs. “It’s not like…healthy for them to _not_ to be able to be with other people,” he quietly notes. “I’ve seen Izumin try. It’s bad.”

 

“He thought I’d hate the idea,” Shu sighs. “It’s like he doesn’t understand how much I enjoy the concept of solitude and rest. I’ve been working for years on a way to get around our bond.”

 

“…Seems like it finally worked?” Mika hopefully says, tossing that cloth aside too before he flops back down against Shu’s back, nuzzling his face up into his hair. “It’s gotta be better for everyone,” he sighs. “So you can relax…so Rei can…y’know…not be so wound up all the time…his magic’s so _big_ , having no chance to spread that around properly’s kinda scary…”

 

“The birth rate in the capital is out of control,” Shu mutters, rubbing back fondly against Mika, dropping his hand to stroke over Mika’s palm. “The farmers were thrilled for a year, but now the surplus is rotting. It’s about a lot more than one Nightcloak’s overworked thighs, you know.”

 

“You’ve got nice thighs, though,” Mika cheerfully says, slowly lacing their fingers together and giving Shu’s hand a light squeeze. “Mmn…I know there’s been a lot more wizards blooming lately, too. The timing seems about right for Rei to be affecting it. Scary.” He nuzzles his face down into Shu’s neck. “ _Kara_ thinks I’m crazy and gotta do it all the time, but that’s just compared to him. I’m pretty normal, I think, so we can just do it when we feel like it only.”

 

“You’re silly,” Shu murmurs. He nuzzles back against Mika, tugging the thin sheets over both of them. “Once this mission is over, and you have your men back, you won’t have need of me any longer.”

 

“Nnnn, not true,” Mika mumbles, snuggling himself firmly against Shu’s back. “I love you lots, Master. And I’ve wanted to do things like this for awhile, and even just kiss, if not stuff like this, so now I can.” His eyes lid. “Sometimes, they’re better together when I’m not around. And that’s fine, but…it’s nice if I’ve got someone else, too.”

 

“I used to believe in true love.”

 

Shu squeezes his eyes tight, glad that he can’t see Mika’s face when he’s saying such embarrassing things. “When I was a child. I thought I’d meet someone and...we’d solve all of each other’s problems, and never want anything but each other. I don’t even know anyone who’s satisfied with their beloved anymore.”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with loving a few different people.” Mika plants a kiss to the back of Shu’s shoulder, exhaling a soft, slow breath. “So long as they all keep loving you back. What’s ‘true love’ mean, anyway? I don’t think there’s any one person that could be you and _kara_ and Izumin all in one place, and that sounds stressful, besides.”

 

“You’re so charmingly simple, Mika. The point is that...oh, never mind,” Shu finally grumbles, sinking contentedly back. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, as long as no one gets jealous.”

 

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Mika cheerfully says, snuggling firmly up against him, content on being plastered there for as long as possible. “Don’t worry, Master. I’m _pretty sure_ Rei thinks we’re one big wizard blob at this point, so I’m counted as a part of you, and that’s good.”

 

Shu’s smile is soft, and a little sad. “As much as I love this...I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now.”

 

“Probably fucking his way across the country,” Mika says with a yawn against Shu’s hair. “Or plottin’ more ways to take over the world, that way he does. Either way, good on him.”

 

“Mm, yes, I like that.” Shu strokes Mika’s hand for a moment, eyes flicking over the blank wall. “Don’t let me talk to Nazuna while we’re down here.”

 

Mika pauses for a moment at that, then nods, switching his grasp to pet Shu’s hand in turn. “I won’t,” he softly says. “Do you…do you even know why he’s here? Kuro, too…that was surprisin’…”

 

“Where there is opportunity for profit, so goes the Master of Coin,” Shu quotes quietly. “He’s a different man now, he’ll go anywhere that he can turn one coin into three. And now that Kuro isn’t the Captain of the Kingsguard anymore, he rents himself to the highest bidder. The Master of Coin needs quite a bit of protecting on the road.”

 

“Mmm. Sounds about right, I guess.” Mika chews slowly on his lower lip before he shifts, fishing back through the now much wilder mess of his hair to find the little metal snake he’d braided back up into it. “I think Izumin might’ve also sent Kuro this way, ‘cause…killing two birds with one stone and all that…” he muses, pulling the snake carving free and closing his fingers around it. “It’s nice knowin’ he’s looking out for us.”

 

“Don’t rely on him too much.” Shu’s hand clenches suddenly, and he carefully unclenches it. “Not that he isn’t reliable. He is. But it’s better not to rely on anyone to get you out of trouble but yourself.”

 

“I know.” Mika butts his head against Shu’s back. “I’m not relying on him. It’s just nice to think about having a knight in shining armor that _could_ sweep in at any minute, y’know?”

 

“Spoken as if you haven’t had enough of knights sweeping you off your feet,” Shu says dryly. “Next thing, you’ll be wanting a wizard to wave a magic wand and fix all of your problems. Those are dreams for the common.”

 

“I mean, it _is_ the kinda stuff I used to dream about as a kid,” Mika wistfully says. “Maybe it’s common, but it still sounds romantic, don’t y’think?”

 

“They’re dreams that can never be.” Shu’s voice sounds hollow, and he curls in on himself. “This is a subject that hurts me. Hm, I suppose I should probably...tell you...some of these things.”

 

“You don’t gotta.” Mika plasters himself against Shu, flopping forward until he’s almost pressing Shu back down to the bed. “You’re not allowed to be sad right now, I _jus’_ got done makin’ y’feel good.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Shu says, muffled into the pillow. “But--if you’re going to be talking to them, I don’t want you saying something that will...look, I just want you to know my side of the story. Not his."

 

“You can tell me,” Mika softly says. “And I’ll believe you. Over him, any day. I’m never not gonna be on your side, Master.”

 

Shu hisses out a breath, then turns suddenly, taking Mika in his arms. “Just--don’t believe him,” he whispers fiercely. “He’ll tell you things. Maybe true things. But that--that doesn’t mean you should believe them.”

 

Mika blinks up at him, his eyes wide, but unwavering. “I don’t even wanna talk to him,” he honestly says. “So if he’s got somethin’ to say to me, too bad, first of all. But if he does say things t’me, I won’t listen. He doesn’t know what it’s like, bein’ a wizard, so nothin’ he says matters, anyway.”

 

“But he--”

 

Shu bites down what he wants to say--Nazuna knows _him_ , knows him better in some ways than Mika does, has certainly known him longer. And if someone like that hates him so much, finds him so despicable, then maybe that’s the one that’s really right about him.

 

He shrinks in on himself, biting his lips. “Just avoid him, if you can without raising suspicion. I doubt he’d recognize you.”

 

“He hasn’t yet,” Mika softly says, petting a hand slowly down Shu’s back. “Master…don’t worry about it, okay? I’m not gonna talk to him. I don’t care about him, I jus’ care about you and hopefully fixin’ this mess down here. Okay?”

 

“I just want to bring you home. But you’re...” Shu flaps a hand weakly. “You’re thriving, anyone can see that. I’d feel guilty to take you out of here.”

 

“Don’t say that, I feel _so_ guilty,” Mika groans, clinging to Shu’s waist. “Arashi would think it’s so gross and Izumin thinks I’m gonna get raped, I don’t want them to think I _like_ this kinda stuff when I _really_ just like bein’ somewhere warm all the time with food I like to eat. I mean, I’m a better whore than I am a wizard any day, but _still…”_

 

“Only because you don’t love your work as a wizard,” Shu says softly. “I don’t know that you ever could, when you’ve seen your magic do such things. It’s my dearest hope that someday, you will.”

 

“…Yeah.” Mika stuffs his face back down into Shu’s hair. “I’d rather be only good for fucking than only good for killing. So I dunno about that.”

 

Shu somehow finds a bit of energy, and turns a hand over, letting violet fire coalesce in his palm. After a moment, it firms into a glass shape, and tumbles out of his fingers, little antlers sharp enough to prick the bedsheet, long tail curled around its sinuous body in repose. “I wish your magic could bring you pleasure,” he murmurs, now much sleepier.

 

Immediately, Mika snatches the little snog figurine out of Shu’s grasp, and sets it safely on his bedside after admiring it thoroughly. “I wish it could, too,” he murmurs, flopping back down and curling around Shu protectively. “But yours does enough for both of us. Sleep well, Master.”


	23. Chapter 23

The Master of Coin is a demanding boss. Kuro knows, but there’s still something endearing about the way he stomps his feet, barking orders like a tiny drill sergeant, forcing Kuro to leave his warm bed and do things for which he’s really not suited.

 

He really wishes he could grab Shu and drag him into this mess, but that would be a violation of pretty much every oath he’s sworn recently. And even if he decided he didn’t really care about that (and honestly, he doesn’t really care about that), Shu probably wouldn’t help him. Not with this.

 

So Kuro does as he’s told for once, and sneaks into the softly-scented bedchambers of Shu’s favorite little pet, bypassing the two of them on the bed (with a raised eyebrow) and stepping incredibly carefully, until he gets to the alcove with a tiny, blue-haired child curled up on the floor.

 

 _Sorry I’m no good at this,_ he thinks at the poor kid, and snatches him, hand firmly over his mouth, ignoring the way the kid kicks and bites and--ow-- _stabs_ him, keeping his hand firmly over the kid’s mouth as he leaves the room. He moves quickly through the halls, cloak tossed over the viciously squirming bundle, unable to stop to explain anything for fear that the kid will scream, and someone will hear them.

 

In no time at all, he’s in Nazuna’s outer rooms, and with a dangle of his keys, in the inner rooms as well, all of the doors locked tightly behind him. “Damn doors,” he grunts. “That’s not easy with one hand busy.”

 

Then he dumps out the boy Hajime onto the foot of Nazuna’s richly-appointed borrowed bed, the guest quarters provided by the Otogari family far superior for the Master of Coin than for what he’d seen in Shu’s room, or his own. “There you are, Sir. As requested. Careful, he’s stabby.”

 

Hajime falls to the ground, gasping, trembling, his eyes wide and his dagger still clutched in his hands (albeit now a bit bent). “I-I-I’ll kill you!” he squeaks out, scuttling to the side—away from Kuro, and away from the bed. “Whatever you want from me, I—“

 

Nazuna, wrapped up in nothing but his nightclothes and scowling, cuts him off with a single look. Hajime’s squeaks turn to strangled, embarrassed noises, and his face goes red, his hands shaking around his dagger. “I…I…”

 

“Why are you _here?_ ” Nazuna hisses, jumping off the bed and stalking close to him. “I thought you were safe now—who took you back here? I’ll kill them myself!”

 

“No, Milord, it’s nothing like that, I _swear_ —“

 

“Nonsense, look at you, you’re playing attendant to a whore—“

 

“ _Playing_ , Milord, playing, t-that’s the key word, I promise, I swear, I—“ Hajime’s eyes well with tears. “I-I’ve been assigned to help, that’s all, I’m n-not doing that sort of thing anymore!”

 

Nazuna’s stern expression wavers, and he huffs, just shy of stomping his foot as he whirls on Kuro. “I want you to take him back north.”

 

“No!” Hajime throws himself at Nazuna’s feet. “No, you can’t, I can’t leave, I’ve got a mission here, I have to help!”

 

Nazuna’s scowl darkens. “What kind of damned mission?” he mutters crossly, hands on his hips. “I don’t like this. Kuro, Lord Izumi didn’t mention Hajime being here, did he?”

 

He squats, head now on a level with Hajime’s, looking searchingly into his eyes. “Master Nazuna says he helped you out of a pretty tight spot, whiles back. It’s no good t’repay someone like that with lies, y’know?”

 

“I-I’m not lying,” Hajime whispers frantically, his eyes growing even larger. Kuro is _huge_ , and terrifying because of it, and his dagger obviously was completely useless, which is even more terrifying. “I swear.”

 

“Who are you helping here, then?” Nazuna demands, hopping back up onto the foot of the bed and crossing his legs at the ankle. His feet come nowhere close to touching the floor. “Who’s your master?”

 

Hajime opens his mouth, then shuts it again, looking away nervously. “I…I can’t say.”

 

Nazuna exhales a long, frustrated sigh. “Well, that tells me who it is, then, I guess,” he sniffs. “I don’t like this. I thought he was out of the brothel business!”

 

“I’m not a prostitute a-anymore!”

 

“No, you’re just the attendant of one.” Nazuna’s lips purse. “I’m still having you sent back north—immediately. The second I leave.”

 

Hajime doesn’t bother arguing, but he doesn’t agree, either, and sits there, trembling for a moment before he hefts himself back to his feet. “I…I have to go, Mika might need me.”

 

“You can try t’get out,” Kuro says quietly, not budging from where he’s crouching. “But without my key, that door ain’t budgin’. An’ it’s a big door. So you’re gon’ stay there, until my Master here sees fit t’let ya go.”

 

Hajime shakes harder. Nazuna heaves a sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in obvious irritation. “Just go,” he snaps, waving a hand. “Let him out, Kuro, before he has a heart attack. But if I catch wind of you doing anything _stupid_ , I’ll find out and I’ll have to kill people!”

 

Kuro stands, lumbering to the door to let Hajime out, giving him a little bow. “He means it,” he adds quietly. “He’ll send me after anyone that hurts ya. They don’t get up after that. Be careful.”

 

Hajime nods nervously, sparing a last, worried glance back to Nazuna before bolting out of the room as if he’s a rabbit with a hound on his trail. Nazuna huffs, his fingers drumming against the edge of the mattress. “I dislike this with every fiber of my being,” he announces.

 

Kuro looks after the kid, then shuts and locks the door, doing his thorough job as a security guard. “I can send a messenger to Izumi, see what he says about this. Meantime, ya gotta be careful. There’s more goin’ on down here than ya know.”

 

“Like?” Nazuna snippily demands. “Don’t send a messenger. If I want to know, I can pick the brain of the whore Hajime’s glommed onto, and you can tell me the rest.”

 

“I don’t know any rest,” Kuro says with a shrug. “I know a couple guys sniffing around down here, but I dunno who they work for or what they’re about. An’ ya know I can’t tell ya anythin’ Izumi’s into, he’s my Commander.” He reaches out a fond hand, tousling Nazuna’s fine hair, his hand easily covering Nazuna’s entire head.

 

“You work for _me_ , you’ll tell me what I want you to tell me,” Nazuna crossly growls, sinking down underneath Kuro’s hand slightly. “Especially after the nonsense your ‘commander’ pulled. Shu’s here, don’t think I didn’t see him. You know something about it.”

 

“Maybe.” Kuro stretches, and stands up, testing the bed with one foot, seeing if it’ll take his weight. It seems quite sturdy, but he stops to remove his boots first anyway. “But ya know I can’t tell ya anythin’ I know from my work with the Kingsguard. That’s treason.”

 

“This doesn’t seem like Kingsguard work,” Nazuna suspiciously says, scooting back further into bed. He draws his knees up to his chest, watching Kuro with narrowed red eyes. “If Hajime is working with who I think he is, and I know he is, then that has little to do with the king directly.”

 

“Ain’t up t’you what seems like Kingsguard work,” Kuro says with a shrug, not budging an inch. “It’s up t’me, an’ my Commander. Permission to get in bed, Sir?” He’s not allowed to call Nazuna Milord, no matter how much Nazuna’s family has always lusted after that title. The Master of Coin is powerful and important, but can never be a nobleman.

 

“You’re being an ass this evening,” Nazuna moodily says, nose in the air as he looks aside, his shoulders heaving with another huff of breath. “Get in bed already, it’s creaking and annoying me.”

 

“Better when I stretch out,” Kuro agrees, shucking his weapons belt to the ground, then carefully getting on the bed. It barely creaks, and he arches an eyebrow. “Hey, they make ‘em strong down here. Not surprising--ya seen their women? The one they want ya t’marry?”

 

Nazuna’s jaw immediately clenches. It doesn’t do _much_ to harden the cherubic, too-young, too-soft looking lines of his face, but he tries to look pissed off all the same. “Pass.” Even if she’s a princess, and could quickly give him the title his family has always longed for—in this case, it’s a very big _no, thank you._ “She’s awful.”

 

“She’s built for a man like me,” Kuro rumbles, reaching a gentle hand over to chuck Nazuna under the chin. “Not a pretty thing like you.”

 

“I don’t care about that, I don’t like her on at least twenty levels that have nothing to do with her appearance,” Nazuna growls, swatting Kuro’s hand away. “But I can’t think of a single woman I like, anyway, so to hell with it, I’ll be unmarried forever.”

 

Kuro doesn’t even flinch in the slightest with the slap. If anything, his grin deepens, and he drops his hand to Nazuna’s chest, fiddling with his buttons. “Ahh, unmarried with such fine work like this? You’re the second most eligible bachelor in the country, ya know.”

 

“If you were trying to be charming, you’d tell me I was the _most_ eligible bachelor,” Nazuna sourly points out, but he doesn’t slap Kuro’s hand away this time. “You know, _your_ fine work is the reason we’re in this mess. I blame everything on you.”

 

“An’ here ya thought I was jus’ makin’ ya pretty things for my own fun?” Kuro beams, and tugs Nazuna up on top of him. “I know I don’ make the fanciest stuff, but y’always look good in what I make, so that’s good enough for a guy with fingers as big’s mine.”

 

Nazuna offers a disgruntled little huff as a response at first, but he settles atop Kuro’s thighs all the same, dropping his hands onto Kuro’s shoulders. Just straddling Kuro’s stupidly massive thighs makes Nazuna’s own ache, and his hands look _very_ much like doll hands when placed upon Kuro’s stupid breadth. _Idiot_ , Nazuna thinks, because he can, and that’s easier than enjoying this. “I’m trying to insult you, at least follow along,” he grumbles without much bite to the words. “What good are you, anyway. _You’re_ the reason we nearly got caught, _you’re_ the one that won’t tell me anything useful…”

 

“Mm, I’m the worst,” Kuro agrees cheerfully, reaching down to stroke his hands up under Nazuna’s shirt, rubbing his supple thighs through the fabric of his trousers. “You got to admit, I’ve kept you alive this long, though. So I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

 

“I’ve stabbed enough people, you’re just an accessory,” Nazuna grumpily says, though he’s obviously mollified by the way he gradually slumps forward into Kuro’s chest, not _hating_ the way Kuro’s hands feel when they’re petting him. Eventually, his face comes to bury into Kuro’s neck, and very quietly, Nazuna finally says, “Does this mean you’re done sulking over Izumi finally?”

 

“I’m still gonna put him in a bag and toss him in the ocean,” Kuro grumbles, rubbing up and down Nazuna’s back. “Boss or no. Ya gotta get better at keepin’ a straight face. Izumi’s my Commander, but he’s as bad at keepin’ his mouth shut as his legs. Nn, you smell good, who’s been rubbin’ ya with oils?”

 

“Who hasn’t? I _hate_ it here, everyone keeps touching me and talking about how pale I am,” Nazuna complains, a whine starting to creep into his voice as he starts to relax. He flops a bit more into Kuro’s chest, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “I’m _good_ at keeping a straight face, Izumi just caught me off-guard, and I was kind of tipsy, and it’s not my fault he remembers _everything_ everyone ever told him.”

 

“Also, he likes ya,” Kuro points out, amused even through his annoyance. “He’s always wanted to give y’a ride.”

 

“You say that _now_ , after you _know_ that’s what happened,” Nazuna accuses half-heartedly. “Don’t act like you knew the whole time. I wish they’d make him come down here and suffer for a bit and drink that insanely sweet tea they all _love_ , he’d puke, he’d deserve it.”

 

“Hey, that stuff ain’t bad.” Kuro rests his hands on Nazuna’s ass, squeezing gently, nowhere near the full power of his hands. “Th’ thing that’s puttin’ an itch in my boots is how they don’t drink booze down here. I hear y’gotta go to a special brothel and pay out the tit just t’get a sip.”

 

Nazuna scoffs, his hands slowly sliding back to lace around the back of Kuro’s neck. “You can get booze here if they want you to marry their daughters,” he slyly says. “I _might_ have a few bottles of wine in here. It’s weak, compared to the capital’s, but…”

 

Kuro’s face turns from scowling to pleading, looking up with large, sad eyes. “Ya wouldn’t deny me, would ya? I’ll take real good care of ya, just a lil’ sip...”

 

Nazuna heaves a sigh, and painstakingly peels himself out of Kuro’s lap. “You’re gonna chug it straight from the bottle like a brute,” he grouses, hopping out of bed to trot across the room and throw open one of the chests tucked away into a corner. He pulls out a bottle of wine all the same and brings it over. “You _better_ be sweet to me.”

 

“A bottle’s not much more than a sip for me,” Kuro points out woefully, reaching for the bottle with something like relief in his eyes. “Ahhh, I’ll be able to sleep tonight, you’re the kindest, cutest, sweetest thing I ever did lay eyes on, ya know? C’mere, I’ll give you a sip too...”

 

“I have a second bottle if you keep at it,” Nazuna sweetly says, holding the bottle just out of Kuro’s reach as he climbs back into his lap. “But you already fucked up. Call me cute again and I’ll break this over your head.”

 

“And ruin all the nice blankets?” Kuro asks, pretending to be scandalized. He sighs, then shifts up onto his knees, lowering his head to press it to the bed. “O Great Master, please allow me to serve thee in private once again, in exchange for thou...uh, thy...thee? sweet nectar of the gods....”

 

“You’re the worst at that, just stop already,” Nazuna complains, sinking his teeth into the cork and ripping it out in short order. “Sit up, take this wine and enjoy it, it’s stupid marriage wine, anyway.”

 

“They’re pretty quick on jumpin’ the gun, then, huh?” Kuro asks, amused as he straightens up and takes the wine. He doesn’t exactly swallow it in one gulp, but he does swallow about half of it in two gulps before taking a pause. “Sweet,” he mutters, mouth twisting in a grimace. “Everything down here is so damn sweet. Except you, I guess.”

 

“I’m not from here, thank the gods,” Nazuna sniffs, forwardly crawling his way back into Kuro’s lap. “It’s all too sweet, I hate it. I could never marry a woman from here because then I’d be expected to spend any amount of time here and there’s _not_ enough money in that for me to care.”

 

“It’s your money they want,” Kuro points out dryly, tugging Nazuna into his lap. “Ahh, there, that’s where ya belong. If you squirm around real nice I’ll let ya drink from my lips, doesn’t that sound good?”

 

“I know they want my money, but I’m fine with that if there’s _more_ money to be made from that—and here, there isn’t, so forget it,” Nazuna mutters. He humors Kuro with a pointed little squirm, even though he has absolutely zero interest in too-sweet wine. “What happened to taking care of me? Now I have to work for it? Traitor.”

 

Kuro sucks in a breath through his teeth, and sets the wine aside, curling an arm around Nazuna’s waist. “Well, now, that’s sweet of ya, innit? No more politics an’ prostitutes today, or you’ll get sick from stress.” He nuzzles up behind Nazuna’s ear, gentle as only he can be, brushing his lips over the curve. “I gotta protect ya from danger like that.”

 

“You’re right, that’s the last thing I need,” Nazuna exhales, sinking back into Kuro’s chest a bit more. His fingers curl over Kuro’s arm (not even close to being able to wrap around it) and squeeze slowly. “I hate this place. Take my mind off of it, would you?”

 

Despite the hardness of his skin when under pressure, Kuro can still feel every tiny press of Nazuna’s little fingers. The ogre blood only comes out when someone tries to break the skin; otherwise, he’s as sensitive and pliable as anyone. It’s him that has to be careful, palming Nazuna’s chest, big fingers as nimble as anyone’s, plucking at the fine fabric and pushing the wrought golden buttons through the holes. “The only place you are is with me,” he rumbles, catching Nazuna’s chin between two fingers, turning his face up. “That’s all ya gotta think about.”

 

Nazuna’s breath hitches up in his chest, and he ducks his head, taking a playful snap at Kuro’s fingers. He knows better than to bite down— _that_ had resulted in a chipped tooth, and he isn’t interested in that again—but his teeth graze over skin all the same, and better, his tongue follows, flicking over the tip of Kuro’s thumb. “That’s all I’m thinking about,” he murmurs. It’s a lot easier to do just that when Kuro is so big and warm and close to him, thank the _gods_.

 

A shiver goes through Kuro, and he tightens his hands, feeling himself get closer and closer to losing control. “One more touch,” he breathes warningly, easing the shirt off of Nazuna’s shoulders. Nazuna knows him well enough to process the warning by now. His cock twitches in his trousers, hardening against the sweet, full curve of Nazuna’s ass. “Or you get off and I go slow.”

 

A little growl wells up in Nazuna’s throat, and he resists the urge to bite again as he shifts in Kuro’s lap, wriggling down against the hardening line of his cock. “You’ll do no such thing,” he mutters, tilting his head back to stare up at Kuro, his eyes narrowing. “Going slow down here means we’ll get interrupted.”

 

“Then I hope you’ve got plenty of oil,” Kuro rumbles, and shifts Nazuna up just long enough to pull himself out of his breeches, sliding his cock up between Nazuna’s cloth-covered buttocks. “Mmm...maybe I’ll just do this,” he teases. “Like old times, eh?” It had been five years before Nazuna had convinced him to actually try penetrative intercourse, five years where Nazuna had always been less than a hairsbreadth away from slapping, kicking, or choking him ineffectually every time he refused.

 

“I’ll kill you,” is Nazuna’s reflexive threat, but it’s rather out of breath, and decidedly unthreatening when his hands clench uselessly against Kuro’s arm, his fingers kneading in slowly. His breath escapes as a shaky sigh, his head thunking back against Kuro’s shoulder as he arches his back, letting his ass rub slowly back against Kuro’s cock. “I’ve been _suffering_ ,” he groans, turning his head to nuzzle into Kuro’s neck, _much_ more affectionate when he has a figurative carrot dangled in front of his face. “You _have_ to spoil me.”

 

“Mm, with ya bein’ so sweet,” Kuro says softly, “don’t see as I’ve got any choice. No worries, I’ll give ya what y’want.”

 

Nazuna is a demanding lover, but a very charming one when he’s getting what he wants. When they’ve been having each other over and over for days, he never bothers with long, careful preparation, knowing how it annoys his much smaller lover. But with their close quarters and spies everywhere, it’s been something of a dry spell...

 

Kuro reaches for the bedside table, and the drawer containing a little pitcher of oil. “Ya been keepin’ in practice?” he asks archly, slicking himself liberally, easing Nazuna’s trousers down over the curve of his ass with the other hand. Neither of them have ever been terribly fond of foreplay.

 

“With what time?” Nazuna crossly grumbles, arching forward onto his knees to help ease his clothes down further. His thighs tremble, already strained and aching just from being spread open across Kuro’s lap, but he ignores it, savoring the ache instead. The shivery anticipation that comes with thinking of Kuro _in him_ —even if he’ll undoubtedly regret this later, at least somewhat—cancels out any worry about aches and pains. “It’s fine if it takes a few tries,” he breathes, glancing back over his shoulder. “Just—I’ll tell you if it’s too much, you know that.”

 

Kuro hesitates, then shrugs. He’s never met anyone as desperate for him as Nazuna, something he loves more than he wants to admit. Gently, he holds his hips, then rocks forward, dragging the slick head against that deceptively small hole a few times before starting to press. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, holding Nazuna close to his chest, whispering directly into his ear. His entire body tells him to _move_ , the fierce ogre blood coursing through his veins urging him to take what he wants, to ravage and _take_ , and he only manages to fight most of it down, feeling the blunt head of his cock catch on that hole, start to force it open. “Your body’ll remember, soon enough...ahhh, there ya go...”

 

Any little quips on Nazuna’s tongue die out completely. This, after so long without, is always _far_ more than too much, and that first, aching push takes his breath away entirely. A whine wells up from his chest, his fingers scrabbling for purchase at Kuro’s arm as reflex makes him want to arch away, but even just the head of that huge, thick cock spreading him open makes his legs weak and his body floppy and pliant. Nazuna’s breath catches on a whimper, and his legs give a last, weak tremble before giving out underneath him, forcing him to give into gravity instead of struggling away.

 

“It’s s-so…” More than anything, Nazuna hates the way he sounds in moments like this, his voice higher and rasping and with the stuttering lisp he’s fought so hard to get rid of over the years. There’s _got_ to be a wire crossed in his brain somewhere for something like this to feel _good_ —Kuro’s far too big, there’s no way he’ll fit, but Nazuna can’t find it in himself to fight or squirm away. He slumps back, chest heaving raggedly, his face flushed red as sweat trickles down the back of his neck. “You…ah…m-more oil, p-please, before you try to…”

 

“Yeah,” Kuro grunts, and bites his own lip, feeling his teeth sink in deep. The one thing he’s never been impervious to is his own body. He grabs for the oil, vision flaring red at the sides when he doesn’t immediately _give in_ to the sweet tight heat around him, doesn’t grab Nazuna and rut himself stupid, spending himself in the fae little body writhing on his cock. But he’s had years of practice holding back the monster inside of him, and it doesn’t win now.

 

He tips the rest of the oil out onto the skin where they’re joined, making it even slicker when he grinds in a bit more, tipping them both forward to get Nazuna on his hands and knees, one huge arm wrapped around his waist. The noises that come out of his mouth aren’t speech, just grunts, less and less human with each second that passes, the red creeping back into his vision as the skin of his belly drags over Nazuna’s back.

 

Nazuna’s arms wobble before they slide out from underneath him entirely, slumping him facedown into the fine sheets. He pants open-mouthed, his nails clawing into the bed weakly. The oil helps—thank the gods, because Kuro is _so_ much, so long and thick that it feels like he’s dying, and no amount of letting his legs splay apart, no amount of telling himself to relax, to just take his time and _focus_ makes it easier.

 

Which means it’s time to stop thinking and _enjoy_ already.

 

Nazuna buries his burning face into the sheets, a broken, whimpering groan leaving his throat when he feels his body just give _in_ , letting Kuro’s cock sink into him further and further with every little thrust. He feels himself drooling, and his hands knead helplessly down into the bed, his body limp and useless when he’s being fucked _so_ thoroughly. It doesn’t make sense, but his cock still aches between his legs, twitching whenever Kuro manages to get another centimeter inside, the impossible length of him making it feel like he can feel Kuro’s cock in his throat.

 

No one else has ever enjoyed being with him the way Nazuna does. Something in the little Master of Coin craves the size of him, enough that it would be unbearable for anyone else, and just because Kuro has no idea _why_ doesn’t mean he’d ever pass up the opportunity to take what he needs so badly.

 

It’s a lot less embarrassing to act like a rutting bull when there’s someone receptive and pliant keening under him, every motion making it clear that he’s begging for more. It’s just as well--Kuro wasn’t joking about losing his self-control, and it’s nearly gone now, the last remnants ensuring that he works himself in with quick little thrusts, a little more each movement, rather than one big thrust that would probably seriously hurt his lover. His mouth works, trying to make words, but it comes out in bestial growls and snarls as he fucks in deep, the squeeze around his cock driving him towards bliss.

 

Hearing the sounds Kuro makes beyond the thudding of his own pulse makes it better, somehow. He _sounds_ like he’s losing control, and something about that makes Nazuna groan and squirm, helplessly caught underneath Kuro’s weight and every unrelenting thrust that buries him deeper and deeper, making it feel like he could be so _easily_ split in two.

 

There’s no avoiding the way Kuro’s cock rubs over every _single_ overstimulated, oversensitive nerve inside of him, and when one short, aching thrust finally makes him bottom out inside of Nazuna, that’s _more_ than enough. Or at least, that’s the start of it—the first spurt of his release almost feels like a punishment that makes Nazuna sob from relief all the same, face pressed down into the sheets when his cock throbs hard, barely getting soft. _Keep it in me like that_ , he wants to beg, but the words won’t come, and he just whines instead, the long shudder that rakes down his spine making him clench down hard.

 

Kuro’s vision goes entirely red.

 

He has just enough thought left to hope he isn’t hurting Nazuna when he moves, planting both of his hands on the bed on either side of Nazuna’s head. With that leverage, it’s easy, delightfully easy to slam in over and over, little grunts ripped out of him in time with the slap of his hips against Nazuna’s. He gives up what’s left of his mind, giving himself over to The Beast, powerful thighs flexing as he lets his basest instincts take control. He feels Nazuna rocking forward with each thrust, and growls, one big hand moving to hold him down by his upper back, pinning him down to the bed with all the strength of ten men, keeping him in place so he can fuck into him harder, faster, without the slightest bit of consciousness, driving mercilessly towards his own climax.

 

A startled little squeak is all that Nazuna can manage before he’s shoved down, held there, and fucked in the _exact_ way he’s wanted for weeks.

 

It’s so much more than too much. Kuro isn’t careful with him, Kuro _can’t be_ , not like this, and Nazuna gives into that gratefully with the only noises leaving his throat breathy, rasping little sounds. It doesn’t hurt—it _aches_ , with every thrust making groans choke up in his throat at how far he’s spread open by Kuro’s cock, his body entirely overwhelmed by how far inside Kuro is, by how easily he sinks in each time now. Dimly, Nazuna feels himself coming again—a long, slow, tingling orgasm that makes his nipples harden and his toes curl and his fingers go numb—but that’s so secondary to the way the rest of him feels, when he’s _so_ full that he doesn’t have to think.

 

Kuro’s orgasms always take him by surprise. This one is no exception, slamming through him during one brutal thrust, spurt after spurt of hot liquid flooding into the little body below him for what feels like several minutes as his body contorts, seizing in a rictus of pleasure.

 

For a moment, Kuro isn’t sure who he is. The spasms are intense, leaving him wrecked and exhausted, but feeling clean inside. The Beast builds up in him slowly, when it’s not allowed to get out, and fnding an outlet always helps. He’s never found one as perfect as Nazuna, though, and he clings to the other man through the last of the convulsions, letting the red recede from his vision. “You all right?” he finally manages to whisper, not daring to move yet.

 

Nazuna manages a little squeak, and not much else for a long moment. He slowly sinks down, content to keep his face flat into the bed as he breathes heavily, feeling sweat cool, feeling his body start to complain. “Y-yeah,” he eventually whispers, grimacing as he shifts, all-too-full and less happy about it by the moment. It’s starting to feel less lewd, and more…unpleasantly squishy. “You have…a minute left. Maybe. Before I get mad.”

 

“Yeah...but ya get mad if I pull out too fast,” Kuro reminds him, still breathless, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. Then he reaches to the side and grabs an old shirt, dragging it beneath where they’re joined before he slowly, carefully pulls out. It’s no use reminding Nazuna afterwards that he’d asked, begged for this. He’ll be angry for a little while, but it won’t stop him from begging for it the next time they have a private moment. “How’s that?”

 

Cursing like a sailor, Nazuna twists to the side, kicking back at Kuro with an unhappy squeal. “Ow, ow, _ow_ —ahhh, that feels _no_ good, everything’s dripping, why do you _come_ so much…” he bemoans, shivering and curling up into a grumpy little ball. As much as he complains, however, it’s obvious he doesn’t hate it to much, judging by how red his face is and how he doesn’t pull any further away. “This is your fault.”

 

“Yep,” Kuro says with a shrug. “All my fault, blame me. It’s the ogre blood, I just can’t control myself.”

 

He stretches out his arms over his head, shucking the rest of his clothing with a grunt. “You want a drink?”

 

“Yeah. Like, a lot of it.” Nazuna gingerly stretches out, blowing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face. “Then I want you to be a pillow.”

 

“I’ll be a pretty big pillow,” Kuro says with a grin, grabbing the rest of the wine bottle and passing it over, flopping gingerly down onto the bed, now fully naked to avoid soiling his clothes. “Ya got all clean down there?”

 

Nazuna just growls at him, and curls up around the bottle of wine, making no attempt to move (or even drink). “If I drip on you, it’s your fault and you’ll deal with it.”

 

One big hand comes up to pat Nazuna’s back. Kuro reclines, sated down to the bone. “I never feel so good as when I’m in ya,” he rumbles, pulling the smaller man close to rest on top of him. “Like flyin’. Like seein’ heaven.”

 

Less grumpy and more exhausted to the bone, Nazuna allows himself to be pulled over and petted, sprawled over Kuro’s chest and fitting there rather nicely. “Good,” he mutters, clutching his wine bottle and butting his head underneath Kuro’s chin. “That kinda praise gets you places.”

 

Kuro grins, and traces little patterns on Nazuna’s back. “Sounds good, but th’only place I wanna be is here. Well. Not here. Pref’rably back up North, where there’s stronger wine.”

 

Nazuna stifles a yawn into Kuro’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut. “The stronger the wine, the better,” he murmurs. “For you, at least. You’re the worst, a real brute. Do it again later.”

 

“You know how to take it,” Kuro rumbles. He doesn’t bother to tug on a blanket; he never gets cold down in these blasted Sandlands, and Nazuna is more than warm enough snuggled up to him. “I’m always at your service, Sir.”


	24. Chapter 24

Rei is a wizard and nearly invulnerable. For that reason, Keito doesn’t bother with a warning shot, and instead slams open the door of Rei’s inner study, then immediately fires an arrow directly at the man he works for, expecting it will be magically stopped. “Before you ask, you should _know_ what you did,” he snaps, eyes dark with anger.

 

Rei, for his part, doesn’t bring out the magical arsenal yet. Instead, he simply ducks underneath his desk, far more enamored with the idea of hiding than actually engaging Keito when he has a bow and arrow in hand. “For once, I’m at a loss,” he sing-songs, fluttering a hand up over the edge of his desk. “Please don’t shoot me, I’m feeling very feeble today.”

 

Keito rolls his eyes, and nocks another arrow. “You sent me,” he reminds Rei, in what he thinks is a very patient tone, despite the loaded weapon in his hand, “to pose as a client in every Sandlands brothel I could find--and then, what else did you do without telling me, Rei? Don’t answer, I’ll tell you.”

 

His eyes blaze, and his hand quivers slightly on the string. “You also sent my assistant--the boy you gave me to _raise_ when he was _five_ \--to act as a _prostitute_ in one of said brothels--without telling him or me or letting me know where he’d be! _Guess what happened and maybe I won’t shoot you._ ”

 

“Oh, did you have a bit of a tryst? You do smell like him, now that I sit and think about it.”

 

It isn’t _really_ Keito’s fault that he fires an arrow at that.

 

It grazes Rei’s hand before he can jerk it down and into hiding, and Rei yelps, curling up into a tinier ball underneath his desk. His legs still stick out quite a bit, but it’s close enough. “For the record,” he carefully attempts, “it wasn’t my intention for the two of you to become…intertwined. But if I had mentioned the situation, it could have easily endangered everything.”

 

“It would have been worth it! You ass!” Furious, Keito kicks the desk, gritting his teeth when that hurts his foot. “Are you so far removed from humanity that you don’t see what you’ve done? I should kill you just for what you’ve done to that boy! Get out from behind there and let me shoot you!”

 

“What I’ve _done_ to that boy? You’re going to have to be very specific, but I assure you, I haven’t done anything that he didn’t agree to.” Rei slowly peeks his head out over the edge of the desk, raising a hand up for mercy. “Shoot me and you’ll never get an explanation.”

 

Keito scowls. “I don’t need an explanation, I need some kind of indication that you’re not truly a monster, and you are the man I thought you were! What kind of _shithead_ sends a friend--fuck, you were my _lover_ \--to fuck his adopted son?”

 

“I didn’t send you to fuck him, first of all—I didn’t send you to do anything with him, but the fact something happened proves what I’ve thought for years now, that he’s _quite_ enamored with you, and vice versa.”

 

Rei pulls himself to his feet, dropping his hands to the edge of his desk as he frowns across it at Keito. “He’s not your son,” he flatly points out. “For whatever that’s worth. He’s your student and he’s been underneath your care, but he’s not your son. He certainly doesn’t think of you as a father, or he wouldn’t’ve lied to your face since meeting you.”

 

Some of that, admittedly, dovetails with what Keito has quietly suspected for a while, but hadn’t wanted to say. “You made him do that, too,” he accuses, through he relaxes the hands on his bow, and doesn’t draw another arrow. “You should take responsibility. You never let him be a child, he was always fulfilling your designs.”

 

Heaving a sigh, Rei spreads his hands helplessly. “I enlisted his help because that’s what he wanted. You can paint me as the villain all you like, but _he_ begged me for the chance. If you dislike that, you can scold him and his motivations.”

 

“He was five! And I _will_ scold him, that’s what I do, because you told me to raise him and then you arranged things so I might have to _sleep_ with him, which, in case my voice is making it unclear, _I am upset about._ ”

 

“You’ve thought he was lovely since he was twenty-three, stop lying to yourself,” Rei snaps, finally letting a flutter of irritation to show. “I didn’t arrange you to sleep with him, for the last time. I’m _sorry_ if it wasn’t an ideal situation, but it wasn’t intentional on my part, no matter what he might have told you. That boy has a good head on his shoulders; he’s known since he was five that he wanted to take down the Academy’s Emperor, don’t tell me I’ve influenced him so much.”

 

Keito lets out a huff, and flops down onto the edge of Rei’s desk, stashing his bow to the side. “That’s my shame,” he says quietly. “I never wanted him to know. I know he’s an adult now, but--I never, ever would have touched him. I have some morals.”

 

Rei stares at him, then heaves a sigh, and reaches forward to pat the top of Keito’s head. “Honestly. Do you really think he didn’t know?”

 

Keito’s face burns, and he stares down at his knees. “I hoped he didn’t. How the hell did you know that it was when he was twenty-three?”

 

“It’s adorable that you think I wasn’t lurking about and watching you when I had the chance.”

 

“You could have made yourself known.” Keito reaches over, giving Rei’s shoulder a gentle shove. “I missed you. Ass.”

 

“And have you capture me and toss me to the previous Emperor? I think not,” Rei sweetly says, catching Keito’s hand in his own and bringing it to his lips for a brisk kiss. “Your taste had changed by then. You decided adorable, wholesome redheads were to your liking.”

 

“You don’t think that may have had something to do with you?” Keito asks tartly, trying not to look mollified by the kiss. “My lover of over a decade suddenly formed a soul-bond to someone who thinks I’m garbage, then got himself declared an enemy of my Emperor, then vanished.” His lips tighten. “It was like you forgot me completely. Like it meant nothing. Not to be all sentimental, I don’t care what you do or with whom, but...”

 

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, Keito.” Rei lowers Keito’s hand, but doesn’t release it. “No one has a choice in that sort of thing. It wasn’t exactly what I would call convenient for me, either—or _pleasant_. Sex wizards were not exactly created to be bound to one person.”

 

“I heard you cried for five days.” One corner of Keito’s mouth twitches. Rei’s hand on his still draws a reaction, damn him, even though he knows it must be making Rei ill. That’s hardly flattering.

 

“Who told you that? They’re a liar.” Rei’s lips purse, and he gives Keito’s hand a slow squeeze. “Keito. It really wasn’t my intention to put you or Mao in an uncomfortable situation. I’m sorry it happened, but…”

 

“You should apologize to him.” Keito turns away, mouth set in a bitter line. “Even if he did have an idea of how I...that my thoughts had strayed into inappropriate territory. He shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

 

Rei rolls his eyes, finally releasing Keito’s hand. “Or, he had an idea, and he also has his own desires to play around with. Give him some credit.”

 

“He didn’t have a choice, Rei.” That much, at least, is clear to Keito. “He’s young and attractive, and athletic, and intelligent. Having to get on his knees for someone like me--he didn’t have any choice in it.”

 

“Stop that, on about five levels.” Rei frowns and drops back into his desk chair. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re handsome and smart and talented. Second of all, consider for one moment the boy’s agency in all of this. He agreed to the job, he knew something like this _could_ very well happen, and he still went. If anything, it must be something of a relief that he gets to do as he likes and he’s not being…” He trails off, fluttering a hand. “Unimportant. Either way, I’m sure he had fun.”

 

“Even--even if I thought you were right, and for some reason he didn’t hate being forced to suck off a fifty-year-old man who gets winded walking up the stairs,” Keito snaps, folding his arms over his chest, “I doubt I was at my best being watched by a woman and soaked through with opium! If...if anything were ever to...well, it shouldn’t have been like that!”

 

“Instead of scolding me about it, perhaps you should ask him how he felt about it,” Rei mildly says, leaning his head back against his chair. “And I don’t know, _I_ thought blowing you was always an enjoyable task.”

 

Twin spots of color rise in Keito’s cheeks. “B-be that as it may. He doesn’t have your...experience. And that’s another thing--how long have you had him doing this kind of thing?”

 

“What kind of thing might that be? Sucking you off?”

 

“Yes--well, not _me_ ,” Keito clarifies hastily. “Using his body to gather information. He said it isn’t the first time you’ve put him in a situation like this. How fucking old was he?”

 

Rei blinks back at Keito. “I honestly can’t recall any other time I’ve _asked_ him to act as a prostitute to get information,” he says. “I know that he’s bedded a handful of women in his day to find out certain things, but…”

 

“So you never threw him to a bunch of monstrous creatures from the Shadowlands to ravage?”

 

“That’s not prostitution.”

 

“It’s still really creepy, Rei. And honestly, as his guardian, I should kill you.”

 

“It’s not creepy, he wanted the kind of power only something like that could bring.” Rei heaves a sigh. “Keito, he’s very good at getting your sympathy. It’s sort of been his job for awhile now.”

 

Keito opens his mouth to object, then closes it. “If he were that good at it,” he argues, “he surely would have done it back when everything...happened. He didn’t even try to escape torture. Gods, he’s got such a strong will.”

 

“He didn’t try to escape because he’s still loyal to me, obviously.” Rei tilts his head to one side. “You think he could never be interested in you because of what you had to do, don’t you.”

 

“I--”

 

The statement brings Keito up short. He hadn’t thought of that part of it. The second Rei said it, though, the words turn over in his head, resonating with his feelings, making a horrible sense. “He shouldn’t be,” he says softly. “I failed him in every way I ever could. And I’ve never atoned for it.”

 

“He turned back to come and make sure I didn’t execute you. I think it’s safe to say he understood there were extenuating circumstances, and that he isn’t upset with you. But you don’t have to believe me, bring it up with him.”

 

“Oh, great idea. I’ll just send him a gift basket or something. I wonder if the florist has a recommendation for ‘sorry that I, your mentor and guardian, had you tortured and also came on your feet.’”

 

“On his feet? Goodness, you should have at least saved that one for your fourth or fifth go.”

 

“It was the second time,” Keito mutters. “The first was in his mouth. But there was so much opium in the air, and a fat woman was watching, so I hardly count that one.”

 

“Keito,” Rei exasperatedly says, leaning forward. “He’s long since forgiven you, or he wouldn’t’ve come back for you in the first place—nor would he let you come on his feet, I’m assuming. But he’s an odd bird, so who even knows about that one.”

 

Keito snorts. “I suppose you’re right, in your colorful way. But still...if this were something he were doing with someone else, then as his guardian I’d tell him it was a bad idea. I just...how could anyone truly forgive someone for that kind of betrayal?”

 

“You have a good head on your shoulders, and remember that everyone was doing their job and nothing more than that. Or at least, that’s how he thinks,” Rei wryly muses. “You should _really_ be discussing this with him, though.”

 

“Oh, I will. But I had to kill you first,” Keito explains. “You deserve it, you see.”

 

“Ah. But I’m helping, you can’t kill me.”

 

“You’re only helping because of an awful situation that _you_ caused! You don’t get praise for that!”

 

“That’s okay, that’s okay, you can punish me,” Rei hums, plopping his chin down into one hand as he beams at Keito. “I’m a free agent right now, you see. If you want to strike me, now’s the time. Soon, my Demon Queen will return and we’ll be joined at the hip once more, but for now…”

 

“I’m not going to strike you, you’d just enjoy it,” Keito grumbles. “You’re far too much...that way. And I suppose I need to save all of my virility for all the thousands of brothels I still have to check--I’m not finding them, you know. All the Northerners are disappearing before I can investigate. I have a feeling they won’t show someone like me the real goods. I think we’ll have to place our trust in the natives. Mao says they don’t tell him much, either.”

 

“That’s what I was afraid of, unfortunately.” Rei’s expression darkens immediately, and he frowns, drumming his fingers against his own cheek. “I dislike that so much of this burden cannot be further distributed, especially when my other, previous sources of information have been so quiet lately. Relying on Mika alone…well.”

 

“As an intelligence-gatherer,” Keito says dryly, “I’d rather not rely on him at all. He isn’t the sort of person that I would want to place all of my hopes on. Through no fault of his own, he’s just...hmm. Or is it politically incorrect to talk about his failings these days?”

 

“It irritates me _so much_ , but I’ll hear your complai—ah, _concerns_ , because that’s what an Emperor does—listen to people compl…be concerned. All day.”

 

Keito stares at him for a moment, then slides off the desk. “If Mao asks, I got you with an arrow. Somewhere painful. Goodbye, Emperor.”

 

“He can’t feel it, you know,” Rei lightly tosses after him. “His bond. You needn’t worry about him being caused any sort of pain because of that. He’s probably having a grand time, all things considered.”

 

At that, Keito pauses, turning slowly around. “All things considered?” he echoes. “What does that mean?”

 

“I’m not there to monitor him, Ritsu’s not there to monitor him, _you’re_ not there to monitor him, so he’s left entirely to his own devices in a whore house—it’s probably a lot of fun, in a strange sort of way. Believe it or not, I’ve never given him a mission like this.”

 

Keito cocks his head. “What kind of fun, exactly, is there to be had working in a brothel?”

 

“Casual sex with men that tell him he’s beautiful? I don’t know, it sounds fun to me.”

 

“Constant sex with men who can’t get willing partners any other way?” Keito counters. “It isn’t like men who patronize brothels are the most exquisite specimens. There’s a reason you sent me.”

 

“He’s in a good area of town, I didn’t stick him just anywhere,” Rei dismisses. “And I sent you because you _are_ an exquisite specimen that stands out, yes, so you must be even more of a treat for him.”

 

“Rei. I’m old.” Keito pushes up his spectacles on his nose, suddenly feeling very tired. “And I may be Enhanced, but I’m no true wizard or bloodbred to live for centuries and look youthful while I do it.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re handsome and you look expensive, roll with it and let him come next time.”

 

Keito blinks, so hard he needs to push his spectacles up again. “What--I--how did you--”

 

Rei smiles back at him, his eyes glittering. “It’s very cute that after all this time, you _still_ forget what I am.”

 

“Listen. I was flustered.”

 

“It’s common courtesy, help the kid out.”

 

“You’re making things up, there’s no such thing as common courtesy in extremely uncommon situations!”

 

“Disagree. Shouldn’t you want to spoil him, to make it up to him~?”

 

“But--he’s got a resonant bond,” Keito points out, hands flapping awkwardly. “Me touching him should have made him feel awful, so I abstained!”

 

“I just told you, he can’t exactly feel it,” Rei drawls. “You also put your dick in his mouth. That’s plenty of touching.”

 

“I had to! It--ugh, i’m not going to justify this again,” Keito grumbles, grabbing his bow from the desk. “I’ll talk to him. Maybe. Though I don’t know what there is to say.”

 

“If there’s nothing to say, then don’t say anything,” Rei says, fluttering a hand. “Just kiss him instead. Let the boy have fun on a mission for once in his life, I’ve worked him to the bone up until now.”

 

“...Fine.” Keito hitches his bow over his shoulder, buttoning his coat. “But you’re pouring me wine after I fall in love with another beautiful man with a resonant bond.”

 

Rei opens his mouth with a sharp reply on his tongue, then thinks the better of it. “I have very good wine,” he says instead. “Good luck, and report back to me the second you hear anything.”

 

“Of course, Rei. We’re all at your service, aren’t you?”

 

And with that, Keito leaves, heart only aching a little for something that was never really his.


	25. Chapter 25

It’s less because anything is happening (sort of), more because he’s simply _lonely_ that Mao decides to tuck a bundle of red fabric between the curtain and his window, signaling the need for Keito’s presence.

 

It isn’t as if he doesn’t have anything to relay. There’s plenty, about Northerners and Southerners alike, and perhaps most importantly, the lack of contact he’s been able to have with the palace where Mika is stashed away. Sooner rather than later, he’s going to need to sneak his way out of here, but for tonight, huddling up around a bottle of wine that’s not even beginning to get him drunk is ideal. Not a single message from Ritsu, not even a single message from _Rei_ —that’s isolating, and frustrating, or is it sort of freeing? Time will tell.

 

Mao is a capable, intelligent person, who has been on his own for more missions than Keito has ever heard of. Logically, Keito knows, he doesn’t need to be checked on often. Once a week, perhaps.

 

Which is why he takes lodging across the street, and checks Mao’s window at least three times a day.

 

It’s not fussing, he tells himself. It’s just being thorough. And that thoroughness is bourn out when he sees the telltale flash of red in the window, galvanizing him into action even as his knees ache, body exhausted after a long day.

 

He can’t tell if the Madam remembers him or not. She gives no indication either way, though the hint of derision in the set of her mouth when he requests ‘the redhead with the Northern accent’ makes him think she does remember him after all. He requests privacy, and passes over a few extra coins, and in return she leads him to a room he hasn’t seen before, draped in wine-purple cushions and blankets, with a huge soft bed, a selection of accoutrements, an entire wall of toys, oils, and ropes.

 

“Premium suite’s available,” she tells him with a yawn. “If you give him the pox, you pay the funeral bill, that’s the law.”

 

With that delightfully inspiring image, she leaves, and Keito starts to pace, trying not to imagine any number of awful things that could have happened to Mao in the last few weeks.

 

Barely two minutes pass before the door creaks open, and Mao, carting a second bottle of wine, hair down, and a mostly sheer robe barely tied in places, slinks inside. Relief immediately dawns upon his face at the sight of Keito, and he quickly turns the lock on the door, heaving a long sigh. “Ahh, it’s good to see you again, sir. This place gets pretty stifling after awhile…um, though you look pretty stressed, are you all right?”

 

Keito exhales slowly, gripping the edge of his chair. “You’re well. At least, it looks as if you’re well. Are you all right? Fuck, I need wine, pour some of that.”

 

“It’s very strong,” Mao warns him in advance, and sets down a cup, filling it half-way instead of to the brim before passing it over. “I’m well, more or less? This whole situation, though…”

 

“It’s stupid,” Keito says flatly, “and unfair to you. Here, sit, tell me what’s been going on.” He doesn’t cough when he drinks, but only because Mao had warned him.

 

Mao pauses, a quick glance about the room making it obvious there aren’t any other chairs, just the one Keito is in, plus a bed, and so he flops down to the floor at Keito’s feet instead. “A few men that I’m certain are slavers came through this place, the other day,” he says, glancing up through his bangs. “Well—a few men, and a woman. I was dealing with a client at the time, so I couldn’t get a thorough look at them, but…”

 

The fact that Keito’s first reaction is to want to ask about the other client instead of the slavers is enough to tell him to get himself in order, quite sternly. He drops a hand, patting Mao’s shoulder. It’s warm against his hand, and he squeezes slightly. “I heard about that gang at another brothel. Was it four men and a woman? Could you tell anything about their accents?”

 

“Mm, that’s them. The woman was definitely native. The men…maybe one of them was, but the rest were foreign. They couldn’t find anyone they liked here, so there was a pretty length argument with the Madam…all in sandtongue, unfortunately,” Mao grumbles, rolling his eyes. “And what I know isn’t good enough to follow along. Did you know prostitutes have their _own_ version of it? It’s too much, all of this is.”

 

Keito’s hand moves hesitantly up to Mao’s hair, stroking it gently. He hadn’t done this, when Mao was a child. Back then, Mao hadn’t been a terribly affectionate apprentice, preferring verbal praise for his intellectual pursuits, and Keito has never been a very physical person. But in the last ten years, Keito has found himself wondering whether Mao’s hair would be soft, or stiff, and seeks out an answer. “You shouldn’t have to be here much longer,” he assures Mao. “I talked to...our boss. He knows the main task will be on his lover’s pet.”

 

Mao purses his lips, dissatisfied with that answer, but distracted by the touch to his hair. It’s unusual that Keito touches him so forwardly, but Mao supposes he _has_ put himself into prime petting zone, so it’s only fair. He tilts his head forward obediently, letting himself be touched. “That sounds bad,” he bluntly says. “He’s not equipped to deal with people like this. He’ll shut down.”

 

“We’ll have to hope that he doesn’t.” Keito shrugs, and when Mao doesn’t stop him, keeps petting. It feels startlingly intimate, and he feels rather like a pervert, almost more than he had when he’d had his cock in Mao’s mouth.

 

Of course, that image doesn’t exactly help him calm down. “Either way, it isn’t your failure or responsibility. Our boss sent him a bodyguard, so it’s out of our hands.”

 

“A bodyguard?” Mao skeptically replies. “That’s not going to change the situation, or make it easier, especially if it’s who I think it is. Ahh…he’s so difficult to deal with,” he bemoans, slumping forward until his head rests against Keito’s knee. “Both of our boss’s special interests. They’ve always been like that, why isn’t it different now…”

 

“Because now he’s in power, so he doesn’t have to do what anyone says,” Keito says with a snort, inwardly thrilled at the way Mao slumps against him. It certainly doesn’t _feel_ like Mao is still holding some kind of grudge against him, no matter what he secretly fears. If anything, this is more affectionate than Mao usually is, which leads him to wonder... “And have you been...having fun on this mission?”

 

The question takes Mao off-guard, and he fights down the urge to tense. “It’s certainly different,” he diplomatically settles upon, shifting carefully underneath Keito’s touch before switching the subject again. “I need to eventually sneak out of here, though. Not being able to check in at the palace—it’s making me nervous.”

 

“I’ll get you out when you want to leave,” Keito assures him, moving his hand down to brush at the base of Mao’s neck. “I was just thinking...that perhaps it isn’t all bad here, now that you’re not supervised for the first time? Discover anything...fun?”

 

Mao tilts his head to stare up at Keito, expression impassive. “Sir, you sound like a pervert.”

 

“Be polite,” Keito murmurs, mouth twitching slightly at the corners. “I paid for your time, didn’t I? So entertain me with stories.”

 

“That’s definitely something a pervert would say.” Mao sighs a little, his gaze flicking away again. “Well, I certainly haven’t had anyone else show up with a foot fetish.”

 

The fleeting confidence Rei had instilled in Keito dies, and he withdraws his hand, looking away. “Sorry. I overstepped. Obviously you wouldn’t want to say that kind of thing to someone like me.”

 

“I’m teasing you, sir.” Mao bats his eyelashes up at him. “It’s no surprise to me that you’re a pervert, you know. I’ve seen your sketchbooks.”

 

The memory of that day is warm in Keito’s mind. There had been no deceit between them, then, or none that he’d known about. That had been the fateful day when he’d let Mao see a bit of him, and had started noticing...

 

“Then you shouldn’t act so surprised. Do you act so virginal with your other...clients?”

 

“Usually.” Mao smiles up at him innocently. “Would you prefer I didn’t with you? I suppose you know I’m not, so perhaps the effect isn’t really there.”

 

Keito snorts. “Are you not? R--our boss, told me that you’ve never done work for him like this before, only teased information out of women through their tits.”

 

Mao’s expression shifts to one that’s decidedly unimpressed. “Why were you talking to him about that? If you wanted to know more about my sex life, sir, you could’ve asked outright.”

 

“I...” Keito clears his throat, pushing up his spectacles. “I wanted to make certain he hadn’t been using you like this for longer than I could tolerate. I was responsible for your welfare, you know.”

 

Mao’s eyebrows raise. “Our boss is really obnoxious, but he doesn’t do stuff like that,” he bluntly says. “Or at least, not unless I’m willing, I guess. Girls are one thing, but doing something like this…”

 

“Do you hate it?”

 

Keito nearly reaches out, then thinks the better of it, curling his hand in on itself. “You’re like me, you default to complaining. Maybe that’s my fault. But if you really hate this, I’ll get you out now.”

 

Mao opens his mouth, then thinks the better of his initial response. It’s only years of keeping his face very impassive that allow him to keep color back from his cheeks, though he does look away again. “It’s not as if I hate it. It’s just…ahh…I guess in a way, I feel guilty, somehow…”

 

“For not hating it?” Keito’s voice is almost eager before he realizes what he’s been ignoring, and forces a smile. Fortunately, he’s quite good at making them seem genuine. “Or about your bonded?”

 

At that, Mao can’t keep back a wince, and he shifts restlessly where he sits, his fingers curling against his knees. “I mean—like I’ve said before, I’ve never been great at feeling my bond,” he admits. “So…it’s less about that, and—yeah, it’s more about not hating it. I guess it’s not…terrible, being out of reach of everyone that can tell me what to do, heh.”

 

Keito takes a risk, and lets his hand move back to Mao’s neck. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself,” he says softly. “You’ve had precious little time for that, in your life.”

 

“It’s just…nice, to be able to do what I want for once.”

 

As soon as he says that, Mao regrets it, but now the floodgates are open. “It’s so _frustrating_ ,” he continues, huffing, irritably twisting to butt his head into Keito’s hand, “to not have any freedom. Those two brothers—they’re the worst. If one of them isn’t on my case, the other one is, and trying to catch a break within 100 leagues of them is impossible.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Keito says with a sigh, petting Mao’s hair more, then shifts to start rubbing Mao’s shoulders. “Take your chance, then. Explore yourself a bit, learn some things about yourself...about what you like. While neither of them can bother you.”

 

Finally, Mao scoots closer, grumpily setting his chin atop Keito’s knee. “It’s not good, to think about your bonded like they _bother_ you,” he mutters. “And I don’t. It’s just—why is he allowed to bed whoever he likes and I’m supposed to sit pretty and do nothing? Especially when it’s people _I_ dislike. Honestly, he acts like his brother far more than he’d like to admit…”

 

“They’re both like that,” Keito agrees, on something that’s very nearly a growl. “Because if they want it, it’s necessary, but if you want it, it’s an inconvenience. Or it’s _quaint_ that you think your desires matter. Oh, they won’t say it, but they’re thinking it, and they’re acting like it.”

 

“They don’t act like that with their favorites.” The retort is a sour one. “Which you’d _think_ would be me, but oh, no, see, his _favorite_ is Se—the Northern snake. At least our boss picks favorites based on affection, not how they taste. Or I think he does, maybe.”

 

“No, he picks them based on whim and on how useful they are to him.” The words aren’t particularly charitable, but Keito isn’t feeling particularly charitable. “He was my lover for over a decade, and the second he figured out how to dampen his bond? Running off to the North to sow more wild seeds, of course. And I haven’t even _told_ you about his little island pets that he used to gather, the sycophants.”

 

“You didn’t tell me, but it’s not like I didn’t know about them,” Mao glumly says. “He ran off to High Harbor after realizing he _was_ truly bonded and couldn’t touch anyone. Cried for a week. Right on the floor. Wouldn’t get up, it was pathetic.”

 

“The more we talk, the more I’m _really_ enjoying this break from them.” Keito rubs in firm little circles at the base of Mao’s neck, then into his shoulders. “At least he’s good in bed.”

 

“He might as well be, if he’s a sex wizard,” Mao crossly says, though it sounds less annoyed when Keito’s fingers keep kneading into him. He slumps against Keito’s knee a bit more, winding his arms around his leg. “He’s too big, though,” he mutters off-handedly, eyes lidding. “There’s nothing good about that.”

 

_I knew it._

 

Keito’s lips press together, but he doesn’t pause in his massage. “I noticed, but I never let him use it on me. Not my style.” Still, it’s hard not to picture the two of them--perhaps Mao on Rei’s lap, back arched, hair loose and falling around his face, Rei stretching that tight hole with his huge cock, Mao drooling and panting at the fullness--

 

 _Get it together,_ he orders himself sternly, hoping Mao keeps his eyes away from his lap.

 

“…I only let him once. I was the test—well, one of them—to see if muffling his bond had really worked. Ri…my lover that refuses to behave himself, _he_ suggested it,” Mao huffs, shutting his eyes. “More than five minutes not being their plaything, maybe that’s why it’s not so bad down here…”

 

“You’re wasted as a plaything.”

 

Keito pauses when that sentence escapes, a little embarrassed. Finally, he resumes kneading, and tries to explain. “I mean. There’s so much to you. You’re so...you know. Clever, and brave, and funny, and insightful. I--don’t look at me, I didn’t mean to say any of that.”

 

“You’re really being sweet, sir.” Mao’s fingers curl slowly around Keito’s ankle as he leans further into him, his eyes still shut. “I’m sure my lover thinks those things about me. It’s just…being a human, even if I’m enhanced, it’s hard to feel part of his world sometimes. I bet it was the same with our boss and you, huh.”

 

“Oh, daily.” Keito’s fingers move down, rubbing along Mao’s shoulderblades, seeking out knots. “I tried doing this for him, once. He always complains about being stiff and achy, you know. But he doesn’t get knots in his muscles. He doesn’t pull them when he strains too hard. Everything is just...where it should be, all the time, under their skin, as long as they’re well-fed.”

 

“Half-bloods are weird,” comes Mao’s gurgle of a response when Keito’s fingers press in harder. “Half-blood wizards are worse. So why is our boss’s lover the _absolute_ worst when he’s just human.”

 

Keito snorts. “He’s got too much power for someone with a human brain. That, or he’s just crazy. He thinks I’m a hack, you know. I know this, because he told me to my face multiple times.” He purses his lips. “And my ladies do _not_ have lopsided tits.”

 

“When’s he ever seen a tit, anyway?” Mao grumbles, rubbing his cheek slowly against Keito’s knee without really realizing he’s doing it. “Not under my watch. He was awful to work with. R—our boss, he appointed me not only to watch over his brother, but to more or less be his bonded’s manslave whenever convenient. I think it still applies, but who knows. He certainly treats me like that’s the case.”

 

“Typical. Ass. You know, I went to see him. I shot him. He deserved it, for putting us in that...situation.”

 

“You shot him?” Mao perks up at that, cracking an eye open. “Did you make him bleed?”

 

“Not enough.” Keito cracks a smile, and digs his thumbs into a huge knot at the base of Mao’s spine. “I took him to task for setting us up for meeting in this place.”

 

Mao bites down on a groan, and the sound escapes as a weak little squeak instead. “Let me guess,” he gasps. “Not his fault, he didn’t mean to.”

 

“More like he didn’t care.” Keito’s mouth goes suddenly dry at the noise Mao is making, and he shifts slightly, pressing his thighs together. “And, you know, has no concept of what it would mean to raise someone since they were five. Ahh, you certainly are tense...”

 

“I’m always like this, s-sorry.” Mao hesitates, then lifts his head a bit, daring a glance up at Keito. “If it…makes you feel any better, I don’t think it was your fault? Um, or that it was that weird…it’s not like you’re my actual father, though even if you were, I bet our boss still wouldn’t get it.”

 

“You’re probably right.” Keito rubs in silence for a moment, then says softly, “I hope it isn’t weird for you. I never saw you as a son, just a protege, or an apprentice.”

 

“You’re not my father, and I never thought of you that way.” Mao’s expression turns wry. “I already betrayed my real father, you know? So thinking of you that way…I’d be doing it twice, no thanks. You’re my teacher, kinda my boss, in a good way. It’s not weird.”

 

Keito frowns suddenly down. “Doing it twice? I’m the one that has something to atone for, of the two of us.”

 

“Uhhh…not to play the ‘who betrayed who more’ game, but I think I win.”

 

“I didn’t see it that way. If anything...”

 

 _This is a chance,_ Keito’s mind points out, quite rightly, and Keito can’t bring himself to throw it away. “Well, then. Bygones? I’m quite willing if you are.”

 

“Bygones,” Mao firmly agrees, and gives Keito another bat of his eyelashes. “Besides, I got a cool scar out of it.”

 

“Oh?” Keito’s mouth crooks up at the corner. “Now that I don’t feel guilty, you should show it to me.”

 

Mao hesitates, then leans back, untying the front of his robe, because why the hell not at this point. “It’s not like it’s huge or anything,” he murmurs, shrugging down the thin fabric. “Sena took care of most of that, but magic still scars deeper than anything else, heh.” The darker slash across his heart obviously used to be much deeper and redder, but now, it’s just a shade darker than his skin, jagged at the edges, running almost from his collarbone to nipple.

 

Keito slides out of his chair, kneeling in front of Mao. His focus is tuned, absolute, as if nothing else matters in the world. His fingers reach out slightly, brushing the edges of the scar, feeling the smallest pucker against his skin. “It’s--” His voice comes out a little choked, and he clears his throat, tips of his ears pink. “It’s very dashing. I’ll update my sketchbooks.”

 

Mao’s cheeks flush, and he glances down, following the path of Keito’s fingers. “Dashing, huh?” he murmurs with a little laugh. “Not something I’ve heard before, but…I…I’m glad you think so, sir. Honestly, all I’m good for is skulking about, not the most dashing profession, so…”

 

“You’re hardly skulking now,” Keito murmurs. His fingers finish tracing the scar, but linger on Mao’s chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat, his own racing far faster. “You’re draped in silks and entertaining the world’s worst perverts, and having what sounds like a rather enjoyable time. What do they do to you that you like so much?” _Stop it,_ he orders himself, but reasonable decisions feel so far away.

 

“Who said I enjoyed any of it?” Mao huffs, but he doesn’t deny it further than that, even as he shifts restlessly, his fingers drumming against his knees. “I…I don’t know. It’s not like I dislike sex or anything in the first place, but…it’s…I guess it’s that I don’t have to c-chase it down, or constantly be an afterthought…”

 

“Best enjoy it now,” Keito suggests. He’s being disgusting, he knows, but can’t seem to stop. “You’re bonded, so when this is over, those opportunities won’t be so easy...so if there are things you want to try...you’d best make use of your clients.”

 

“You say that like I’m allowed to dictate any of it,” Mao points out with a little laugh, shrugging. “Which is fine, I don’t dislike that. Just, ah…it’s not like I _hate_ being the kind of person someone would pay money for, so I think I’m getting something good out of this already.”

 

Keito licks dry lips, trying to find dry humor over the thud of his blood in his ear. “You’re as lovely as any of the others I’ve interviewed,” he says honestly. “And far more...hmm...appealing. So if there’s anything you’d like...”

 

His hand moves, reaching up to cup Mao’s cheek, and his heart flutters. “You should ask.”

 

Mao’s own pulse thuds in his ears. _You’re drunk_ , he wants to say, except Keito isn’t. There’s not even that much opium in the air to blame this on today. He swallows, and against better judgement, he tips his head forward, rubbing into the touch of Keito’s hand. “It’s not like I need anything in particular,” he quietly says, his cheeks hot. “I’m not…I’m not picky.”

 

Even the smallest touch of _want_ is enough to steal Keito’s breath. Damn him, Rei is right, he’s wanted this for nearly a decade, as much as it makes him sick with himself. He lets his hand shift, just a touch, so the pad of his thumb ghosts over Mao’s bottom lip. “Just because you’re easy to please,” he says softly, eyes locked on the curve of Mao’s mouth, “doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t be delighted to work to satisfy you.”

 

Mao’s tongue flicks out before he can stop himself, the tip of it wetting Keito’s thumb. He sucks in a shaky breath, his eyes downcast. The way his heart beats isn’t helpful, and he’s fairly certain even Keito can hear the way it tries to thud through his chest. “S…sir, really, you don’t…have to do anything, I…”

 

Keito’s cock had calmed down a bit since Mao had first started drooling on his lap, but that soft panting isn’t helping, and he shifts forward, eyes dark, hungry for something he wants so badly, even if he can’t have it. “Tell me what you like,” he urges, letting his other hand move up to cup Mao’s face, leaning in close. “Tell me what would make you scream.”

 

“I—I’m not—really that noisy?” Mao stammers, but he doesn’t pull back in the slightest, trembling where he kneels, overwhelmed by exactly how… _pushy_ Keito actually is about this sort of thing. Maybe pushy isn’t the word, but it makes his own cock twitch, and his face burns. “Whatever you like, that’s…that’s what I like, honestly…”

 

“So self-sacrificing.” A smile plays on Keito’s mouth, and he’s drawn in, stopping himself just short of actually kissing Mao. That’s not for him. He can’t buy or demand that.

 

“Maybe that’s really the truth, though,” he murmurs, letting his hand drop, trailing down Mao’s chest to rest on his upper thigh. “Maybe making old men lose their inhibitions makes you hard, hmm? Let me feel.”

 

Mao’s breath hiccups again, and his knees shift further apart on the floor before he can think. His cock aches, and there’s no hiding that, not when Keito’s fingers feel like they’re going to burn through thin cloth and into his skin. “S-sir, I…” He tentatively reaches out, grabbing for Keito’s shoulders to steady himself. “When you say things like that…I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t be hard…”

 

“The only people who would be hard to hear something like that,” Keito teases, rubbing his thumb over Mao’s lips, then letting it slip inside, “are the ones that are meant to be in houses of pleasure like this. Like you, boy.”

 

He stands, hefting Mao to his feet, and takes him by the waist, urging him onto the bed. “So show me why you belong here.”

 

The response takes Mao off-guard, and he struggles for words for a moment, his tongue tripping over itself as he flops back onto the bed. “Sir, you really are a pervert,” he mutters, though he sounds far from annoyed about. He reaches out, grabbing the front of Keito’s clothes, yanking him after him. “When you call me things like that, I…I like it.”

 

“Fine, I’m a pervert.” Keito lets Mao undress him, and turns his own hands to Mao’s robe, sliding underneath to rub and pinch his nipples. “You should let them pierce these, like a real Sandlands whore. It’s the only way you’ll fit in better, don’t you think?”

 

Mao bites down on a squeak, flinching back reflexively when his nipples harden underneath Keito’s touch. His breath hitches in his throat as he falls back, another, firm tug pulling Keito on top of him as his thighs splay automatically. “Do you…really think that would suit me? I’m not exactly the best at this…”

 

“That virginal aspect is quite endearing,” Keito murmurs, reaching down to palm Mao through what fabric there is, feeling his breath quicken. “Though unconvincing. You’re better at this than--”

 

The door slams suddenly open, startlingly loud in the soft evening air. Keito springs to cover himself, throwing himself between the Madam and Mao--

 

But it isn’t the Madam. Instead, it’s four men and one woman, all of them with scarves tied around their noses and mouths. Far too late, Keito fumbles for his bag, hoping to find one of his knives at least, but the slavers (it must be them, who else could it be?) are fast, and prepared. One of them gives an order in Sandtongue, and then they’re on him, two binding his arms, one clapping a sweet-smelling cloth over his mouth and nose. He struggles, but only manages to get turned around to face Mao. The last thing he sees before passing out is Mao’s face, eyes filled with regret, nervousness....

 

...and not the slightest hint of surprise.


	26. Chapter 26

“Izumi,” Arashi says through his teeth, “owes us a fucking massage.”

 

His legs are cramping, sweat beading down the back of his neck even in the brisk cold of the North. His boots may be excellent, but good boots can only do so much with this much walking, and his feet are starting to ache at the top of this most recent mountain.

 

Of course, part of it might be due to the fact that he’s carrying Mika on his back, giving his feet a rest. Mika’s boots, he’d discovered, are made for frilly form rather than function, and Arashi privately wants to kill whatever cobbler had turned out those monstrosities, usually hidden by Mika’s robes. The column of his honor guard rides behind them on the road, and Arashi mutters, “Remind me what I’m billing his family for. The medicine for both scouts that fell sick in this stupid altitude, a new pair of boots for you, a new saddle for my poor horse, new shoes for half the horses with us, seriously, what do they pave these roads with? A nice present for you, for that thorn in your foot, more for all the damn time I’m taking out of my very busy life...I think that’s, what, about a dozen Northern horses? At least? Because fuck him, is it so hard to come home when you say you will?”

 

Inconveniences and soreness aside, it would be a lie to say Mika isn’t _enjoying_ the ride.

 

He feels guilty about that, but only to a degree. Arashi’s back is warm and solid, and being able to feel every single ripple of his muscles as he walks is very desirable. Mika tries to behave, at least, and not bury his face into Arashi’s neck for a nibble or two, and instead, flops there still and obedient, his fingers loosely hooked into the front laces of Arashi’s shirt. “Probably the king’s fault,” Mika says without batting an eye. “He’s always got Izumin doin’ stupid things. Nnn, _I_ don’t want a horse, though, they’re scared of me and the Northern ones are definitely too big.” 

 

“Just think of it this way,” Arashi says cheerfully, trying to distract Mika before he gets gloomy. “You’re saving a lot of scouts’ lives. Every time I’ve traveled with this many men without you, we’ve lost at least a tenth of them to animal attacks. You’re saving lives, darling.”

 

The gloominess is already setting in. “But I wanna pet stuff. Like cats. Or snogs. Why are these mountains so big, anyway,” Mika transitions with a huff. “And why’s it so cold. The Shorps ain’t this cold. Every time I gotta come North, it’s the worst unless there’s a warmin’ stone, why couldn’t I just stay with his kids, why’s his mom so…”

 

“It’s summer, darling, it’s not that cold. Isn’t this better than it was in winter?” Arashi huffs a little, but not at the ‘strain’ of carrying Mika’s small frame, more at the annoyance of having to pick his way around little stones, and the scuffs on his lovely boots. “Ahh, I think that’s the valley we heard about, over there! Let’s...”

 

He pauses, brows drawing together. “Wait, say that again. Where am I from?”

 

Mika’s lips quirk unseen. “Eh? Out west, y’mean?”

 

“Yeah. The mountains. I thought you said...”

 

“The Shorps? Yeah, that’s where you’re from, I know.”

 

“...Sharps.”

 

“Yeah. Shorps.”

 

“Ah.... _amaka_ , you’re saying it wrong. It’s Sharps. Like, something you--like one of your Master’s needles, it’s sharp, right?”

 

Mika tilts his head back, gazing up at the too-wide, too-blue sky with a slow bat of his eyelashes. “Yeah, I know. I got it, it’s the Shorps. Because they’re sharp.”

 

“Are you doing this on purpose? Or are you really not hearing it?”

 

“ _Kara_ , I think _you’re_ hearin’ things. Maybe the mountains are makin’ your ears go all poppy.”

 

Arashi shakes his head. “Maybe I am. Ugh, let’s go find this stupid snake. This is all his fault, anyway.”

 

“It’s always his fault,” Mika murmurs, hugging Arashi’s neck as he settles himself down, trying not to shiver when Arashi _insists_ it’s quite temperate out.

 

The further up the pass they go, however, the chillier is. Another half hour, and they finally arrive upon what _looks_ to be a village, and Mika vaguely recognizes it from what feels like ages ago. Arashi’s army had set up here the very first time Izumi had steered them North, before the world had more or less imploded around them, when Leo was still a prince and Izumi still a page. But they aren’t stopping here this time—it’s summer, which means the main pass is clear to Sena proper, not some little off-shoot town that _definitely_ looks decorated for nobles from the Capital to come and tour on horseback.

 

It’s narrow. Scarily so, actually, and Mika clings to Arashi all the more for it. It’s not like he’s scared of small places or heights or anything, but no army could make it through here even two by two, which he supposes is the point. Even if it’s summer, ice and snow still clings to the sides of mountains, and he huddles underneath his cloak, grumpily pulling his hood up and over his head to further hide. “It feels like we’re burrowin’ _into_ the dang mountain,” he says. “Can we not?”

 

No sooner does he say that than does the pass abruptly end, and immediately open up into a wide-open view of the too-green valley beyond. The mountains stand out as a backdrop beyond it, huge and purple and white-topped, and the sprawling city—well, it’s not as big as the Capital, not by a longshot, but maybe that’s because it’s so _large_ , speckling the slopes instead of being concentrated into one enormous lump. Against one of the hills further away sits what Mika can guess is the actual Sena estate, grey-stoned and with its flag whipping in the brisk wind. “Pretty,” he quietly says, but quickly shuts his eyes against the glare of light (and life) that reflects back at him from looking at the cityscape for too long. That many people in one place never feels good.

 

“The letters we’ve gotten say that he’s in the estate itself,” Arashi says, surveying the valley. “Ah, this is kind of fun, isn’t it? Like we’re intrepid explorers, on the hunt for meat for the winter or something. Without spears, of course, my hands are far too delicate and lovely to make callouses on them from brutish wood. My elegant sword is enough for me.”

 

He sets off down the mountain path, toting Mika closer towards the Sena estate. “It’s pretty, don’t you think? Kind of quaint.”

 

“Everything’s too big,” Mika says, cracking his eyes open again. It’s fine if he doesn’t stare directly into the city, maybe. “And really…heh. Okay, you know those kids’ books that talk about what the ‘country’ looks like? We~ll…”

 

“I know, I keep expecting milkmaids,” Arashi says with a giggle. He hoists Mika up on his back, and breaks into a light jog. “I’m not jouncing you too much, am I? This road is so _long_ , I just want to be there already...”

 

“Nope, _kara’s_ got a real smooth run, like a fancy horse,” Mika hums, clinging firmly to Arashi’s shoulders. “How does Izumin act soo much like a capital boy when he’s from a place like this, huh? Whoa, look at that _cow._ ”

 

“He fakes it pretty-- _holy hell!_ ”

 

Arashi nearly drops Mika, ducking sideways and skidding on one knee, eyes huge as he takes in--

 

“That is _not_ a cow,” he insists, eyes the size of saucers, standing up and edging carefully away. “That is a cow that ate nine cows and chewed up their bones, that’s the size of a house!”

 

“I wanna touch it,” Mika insists, stretching out one hand and entirely unfazed by Arashi’s theatrics. “She looks fluffy. _Kara_ , get closer, she looks so _fluffy_ , what if she’s all fluff and that’s what makes her so big? What _then?_ ”

 

“What if it’s a car, a carni, a meat-eater thing?” Arashi asks, scandalized.

 

“Then she’s like you,” Mika dismissively says, making a grabbing motion. “C’mon, lemme touch her.”

 

The wind shifts, and the cow’s nostrils flare. Its placid eyes open wide, then slowly close. A ropelike tail twitches, and the beast turns around, lumbering away up the hill.

 

Arashi relaxes, breathing deep. “Gods, I thought we were dead. Guess it doesn’t like the smell of Western girls, eh?”

 

“Y’know, for a great warrior, _kara’s_ awfully scared of fluffy cows,” Mika sadly says, his hand flopping down again. _I know, I know, I smell scary, sorry._ “I bet Izumin would let me pet the cow.”

 

“It’s _way_ too big to be a cow,” Arashi insists. “What if everything else is big here? What if their ducks are the size of horses? Why’s Izumi so small?”

 

“Easier to throw,” Mika says. “More fun that way. Their horses are real big too, but I bet the ducks are proportional. Uh, I mean…biggish, too.” He pauses, lifts his head, and his eyes refocus as he peers up the road. “Izumin.”

 

Ahead, around the bending road, Izumi—obviously having gotten word of Arashi’s impending arrival and having ridden out to meet him—finds himself stopped by a farmer that has decided to rant about how the sizes of his cows this year are actually _too small_. Vale, unimpressed, tries to take a hunk out of said farmer until Izumi dismounts, leading the horse firmly away as he tries for somewhere between polite and _I’m in a hurry, stop existing_. “Doubt it’s anything more than a coincidence—maybe the harsher winter we had? Who knows,” he tries. _Why couldn’t I just stay in the Capital?_

 

“But M’lord Izumi, Ol’ Gerron says fer sure that _his_ cows is runnin on twice the soize o’ last year,” the farmer insists, stamping a workboot-clad foot. “It’s these grass, they never seeded ‘em proupor affer them soldiers rode boy!”

 

Arashi quickens his steps, then slows them, mouth parting as he hears the accent come so thick out of the farmer’s mouth that he can’t even discern half the words. “You hear that?” he whispers to Mika. “Look at Izumi, he looks so cute and squishy!”

 

“I never thought about it too much, but I guess he is real little compared to other Northerners, look at him,” Mika whispers, his eyes wide as he clings to Arashi’s neck. “Izumin’s cuuute, what do we do?”

 

Izumi bites down on a sigh, and doesn’t bother stopping Vale when his head goes down, his nose immediately stuffed into tall, thick grass with loud crunching sounds following. “I’ll see that it’s all looked at, then—give it aboat a week or two, I only just got in from the capital, y’know.”

 

Mika’s tongue slowly pokes out. “Listennnn…to…hiiim,” he breathes, gripping Arashi’s shoulders tightly.

 

“Aboat,” Arashi whispers, looking as if he’s been blessed by the gods themselves. “Aboat, Mika--am I saying it like he is? I feel like the gods are being _really_ nice to me right now...”

 

“Shore, shore, an I know,” the farmer says with a nod, reaching out to clap Izumi powerfully on the shoulder. “Milord is a roit good lad, a roit good un. Give yer sainted ma a flutter from me, aye?”

 

“What are they saaaayin’?” Mika whispers frantically, struggling not to simultaneously burst into giggles and tears. “ _Kara_ — _kara_ , help, they definitely don’t show this kinda thing to nobles just passin’ through, I didn’t knoooow…”

 

“Shore, you betcha,” Izumi reassures him, digging his heels in to make sure he doesn’t sway underneath the clap to his shoulder. “C’mon, Vale, we’re going, you’ve already eaten aboat your own weight today.”

 

“Aboat,” Mika echoes desperately, slinking down Arashi’s back a bit. “Help.”

 

By the time Izumi actually turns towards them, Arashi and Mika are collapsed on the roadside, clutching each other and giggling helplessly. “I-Izumi,” Arashi gasps, unable even to kneel. “H-h-hi....”

 

Izumi stares down at them, his brow slowly furrowing. “What’s gotten into the two of you?” he flatly asks. “The altitude’s not that much worse here in Sena, you’ve been oot in Sudbury before…”

 

Mika whimpers, burying his face into Arashi’s shoulder as he shakes from trying to restrain his laughter. “It’s still there, if you listen,” he gasps. “It won’t stoooop.”

 

Izumi’s stare continues before sliding over to Arashi. “Did you two smoke something? My mama _will_ kill you if that’s the case. Anyway, get up, it’s aboat—“ Pause. Recalibrate. “About a ten minute walk still to the estate.”

 

“Aboat!!! Aboat!! There it is again--now say ‘shore you betcha!’” Arashi collapses again, shoulders quivering, tears streaming from his eyes.

 

“Never mind. Stay here on the road and die.”

 

“No, no!” Arashi gasps for breath, doubled over as he tries to get up, feet slipping on the road. “I’m sorry, we’re sorry, right, _amaka_? It’s--it was a surprise--you look pretty, come back!”

 

Izumi yanks Vale’s head up, turning him around as he starts to climb up into the saddle. “Nope, stay out here and get eaten by a cow.”

 

Mika freezes, his eyes enormous as he stops laughing immediately. “Do they really eat people?” he breathes, staring up at Izumi with flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, obviously fascinated by the idea. “That’s so _creepy_.”

 

Izumi pauses, staring at them both a moment longer before he sighs, stepping away from his horse again. “You’re so weird,” he mutters, doing his damnedest to not sound fond and failing. “What the hell, you two. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

 

Arashi wipes his eyes, scrambling off of the road, face undeniably full of affection. “Izumi, darling, we missed you. You were supposed to be back _months_ ago, I was about to throw myself off a roof waiting for you. And if a cow eats me, I’ll haunt you forever, they’re really scary!”

 

“They’re not going to eat you, they’re _cows_ , for gods’ sake,” Izumi exasperatedly says, looking aside with as much grumpiness as he can muster. Mika picks himself up as well, not bothering to straighten his cloak or hair, and Vale lifts his head, giving him a hesitant sniff before begrudgingly behaving himself and letting himself be petted when Mika extends his hand. “Is it just the two of you? Or did you bring your guard? If you came through the Stratham Pass, they’ll be behind by an hour, at least.”

 

“You’re _good_ at hidin’ that accent of yours,” Mika absently observes, stroking Vale’s nose. “Izumin must really wanna fit in at the capital…”

 

“Shut your mouth. Arashi, don’t look at me like that, you’re gross.”

 

“They’re behind on the pass,” Arashi confirms, at least _trying_ to behave. He gives Vale’s mane a pat, then grabs Izumi in a huge hug, lifting him off the ground. “Ahhh, you bastard, I missed you so much!”

 

A protest is right on the tip of Izumi’s tongue, but Arashi, _unfortunately_ , is Arashi. That means warm and solid and somehow nice-smelling even after a long day of travel, and Izumi relaxes with a long exhale. He tosses his arms around Arashi’s neck, giving him a solid squeeze as he dangles off the ground. “You’re the worst,” he accuses, voice muffled as he stuffs his face into Arashi’s neck. “I missed you, too. Sorry, I know I meant to meet you so much earlier, but my mother…”

 

“ _You’re_ the worst, we thought you’d been eaten by a giant cow,” Arashi says with a sniff, rubbing his nose on Izumi’s shoulder before setting him down. “And hug Mika too, you took his babies!”

 

Izumi scowls, grabbing up Mika by the waist, dragging a squeal from his throat. “Your _babies_ are fucking terrors,” he growls, squeezing Mika hard before tossing him up onto Vale’s back without even a grunt of effort. “And now they chatter in Sandtongue whenever they don’t want anyone to know what they’re saying.”

 

Mika sits up in the saddle, eyes bright. “Really?” he excitedly asks. “Ahh, that’s so cute!”

 

“Yeah, sure it is. Except now everyone thinks I’ve got a Southern mistress,” Izumi mutters, grabbing Vale’s reins and turning him around on the road. He hesitates, only for a second, before grabbing Arashi’s hand to tug him along. “Which I guess covers up where they came from, but now my mother’s on my case because I said they were of noble birth, but are they _really_ …”

 

“Well, you’re a noble, aren’t you?” Arashi points out. “And your father, um, well...I assume he wasn’t...ah, do we talk about this, or no? Do they talk about it at your estate?”

 

He slips an arm around Izumi’s waist, tugging him close. “I hope you have people ready to rub my feet with sweet oils, I’ve walked _far_.”

 

“I’ll rub your feet, bastard,” Izumi grumbles, tugging Vale’s head up away from the grass once more and leaning into Arashi as they walk. “Obviously I’m a noble, but my mother was very much hoping for legitimate, _normal_ grandchildren.”

 

“Too much to ask,” Mika hums, flopping down over Vale’s neck, pleased to be not walking even now.

 

“Apparently. As for my father…it’s a well-known legend, at this point. My mother’s considered blessed, whether or not they actually buy into who and what my father is. Ah, legend’s too lofty a word, it’s folklore, more like.”

 

“Just say your children are blessed, too?” Arashi ventures. “They’re smart and beautiful just like their father, you think those big lunky farmers out there won’t believe you? For, ah, shore?”

 

Izumi jabs his elbow directly into Arashi’s ribs. “Keep at it. I dare you. I’ll break your feet instead of rubbing them.”

 

“Nooooo, be nice to me, we rode for three weeks to see you and you’re so mean!” Arashi flutters his eyelashes, even as his heavy boots clunk on the ground. “Honestly, it’s not like you’re actually moving back up here, what do they care?”

 

Izumi hesitates at that, sparing a quick glance back at Mika before he lowers his voice. “I might not be moving back up here, but my mother’s pretty insistent about keeping the kids up here. Let’s not talk about it right now, it’ll upset him unless he wants to be a Northerner once and for all.”

 

Arashi’s eyes go wide, but he keeps his mouth shut, nodding slightly in understanding. “The king sends his regards, by the way,” he adds pointedly, so that Mika can hear. “You didn’t even ask, what kind of a loyal Captain of the Kingsguard are you?”

 

“The kind of Captain that gets a letter every other day,” Izumi deadpans, though it’s impossible for him to hide the affection in his voice. “The sooner I can get back to the capital, the better. I’m losing my mind up here, not that I’m allowed to complain…”

 

The road quickly shifts more polished and trimmed down at the edges, though still made of dirt and framed with little but the valley’s grass. One last turn, and the estate pops out just behind the speckling of trees—tall and made of washed grey stone, but certainly modest, when compared to any noble’s household in the capital. “Here we are. If you’d sent me any warning at all, I’d have a room for you already prepared, but—“

 

“Don’t be dumb, we’re stayin’ in yours,” Mika sniffs, though he starts when a servant boy scurries up, dirt-smudged hands reaching for Vale’s reins.

 

“Allow me, Milord—Milady, let me help y’down—“

 

Mika pauses at that, and Izumi bites the inside of his cheek as he flits between vaguely annoyed, and vaguely amused. He settles on the latter. “Don’t offer a lady your hand when you’ve been working in the stables all day,” he scolds, and extends his own to Mika instead, who takes it, eyebrows raising as he slides off of Vale’s back, caught half-way down by Izumi’s sure grasp. “Honestly…”

 

Arashi pouts a little. No one is offering _him_ a hand and calling him _Milady_. The wind shifts, and the smells bring him memory--the last time they’d been here in the North, he and Mika hadn’t even been able to touch. It was up here on a warming stone that he’d given in to temptation. Warmth blooms in his chest when he looks at Mika, effortlessly flirting, teasing Izumi, who teases him right back. _I love them both so much_ , he thinks to himself, giving instructions to the stablehands for when his men arrive. “Darlings, wait for me! And feed us, we’re starving!”

 

“ _Kara_ wants to eat one of your big cows,” Mika whispers, latching firmly to Izumi’s arm and huddling against his side. If he’s going to get mistaken as a woman, then he’s at least going to make use of that…though he supposes this _is_ the North, and they care far less up here about that sort of thing… “He’s scared of ‘em, but that jus’ makes him hungrier.”

 

“Uh huh,” Izumi exhales, rolling his eyes. “And you? What do you want?”

 

“Sweets. So many.”

 

“Don’t say that in front of my mother.”

 

“Don’t say _what_ in front of your mother?”

 

The voice booms out of every hallway, and Sena Maya stands in the doorway, hand on hip, one eyebrow quirked. “Ah, there they are! You didn’t tell me you were having guests, is this the kind of hospitality you want to show?”

 

“I never noticed the accent before,” Arashi whispers to Mika, “but now I can’t un-hear it.”

 

Izumi grimaces, tightening his arm around Mika’s waist—for all the good it does when Mika skitters back behind him and Arashi alike. “Mama,” Izumi greets on a sigh, releasing Mika to let him better retreat. “You remember Captain Arashi, don’t you? This is a surprise visit, I’ll handle it.”

 

“How can you be handling it?” Maya asks, scandalized. “You aren’t even taking them in through the kitchen! I’ll make them a salad.” Before Izumi can respond, she stalks into the kitchen, purpose in her step.

 

“Eh, salad?” Arashi brightens. “That’s better than I expected up here.”

 

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Izumi mutters. “Trust me. Come with me down the hall, I’ll get you settled in my room, and once your guard heads up here, I’ll have your bags brought in. Sorry, I know it’s no capital noble’s house. Mika, don’t shake, you remember my mother.”

 

“She’s loud today,” Mika quietly says, clutching at the back of Arashi’s coat.

 

“You were hiding last time,” Arashi reminds him. He reaches behind to tousle Mika’s hair, then stops when eyes follow him from nearby guards. “Izumi,” he says quietly, “do they...think that Mika is...someone important up here?”

 

“I told you,” Izumi wearily says underneath his breath, grabbing Arashi’s arm to pull him along, and by proxy, Mika as well. “They think I have a mistress from the Sandlands.”

 

Mika blinks at that, the full extent of that statement clicking into place. “W-wait—they think it’s _me?”_

 

“Who else? My daughters call you ‘mother.’”

 

The hall is a short one, and Izumi unlocks his room with the swift turn of a key, ushering them both inside. It’s well-lit and meticulously clean, with the white linens of his bed the only thing vaguely askew. “You also _look_ foreign. That’s an anomaly up here, so it’s not like they have many people to assume about.”

 

“Is it really just that they assume anyone from the Sandlands must be that specific person?” Arashi asks, not sure if he should be amused or horrified. “Seriously? You know, if any of these people were at the other place we stayed at, down south, they _might_ remember Mika from back then. I mean, he was always in his wizard’s robes, but surely...”

 

Izumi spreads his hands helplessly. “Think about how in the middle of damned nowhere we are. People here don’t have anything better to do than speculate and gossip. Mika _looks_ the part, my kids aren’t helping, and—“

 

Mika dives straight into Izumi’s bed, scarcely remembering to kick off his useless boots before burrowing fully down into the sheets. “Bring me my children,” he demands, head barely sticking out from underneath several blankets and a few pillows “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, this is stupid. In the Sandlands, no one would think this is weird.”

 

“Which part?” Arashi asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been to the Sandlands, people talked about _everything_ down there, but I’m pretty sure that three guys in a relationship with two kids would have turned some heads even there, don’t you think? Or--wait, Izumi, say it your way!”

 

“My way? What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Three men with two kids wood re~ally turns some heads, shore wood, aboat the weirdest thing they’d ever see,” comes Mika’s muffled impression from where his face is buried into a pillow, bringing Izumi’s face to flush in irritation.

 

“I don’t sound like that. I don’t!”

 

“ _Kara’s_ cock gets hard when y’do, so think about that,” Mika absently points out, rolling onto his back. “Anyway, it ain’t the three guys with two kids thing. It’s the fact no one would blink that I’m your ‘mistress’ or whatever. In the Sandlands, I’m a whore, so I’m not a man or a woman and they ain’t gonna assume and call me one or the other.”

 

“Makes some sense, when you think about it,” Arashi points out. “Why regulate who someone with money can buy, when you never know if you’re going to come by men or women? Ugh, the whole thing is so gross. Mika, _amaka_ , talk to me in your beautiful accent--Izumi, love, you can join in, tell us that you _betcha_ or something!”

 

Izumi’s eyes narrow, flicking down, then up again to Arashi’s face. “Does it seriously make you hard?” he asks in disbelief. “Why are you like this?”

 

“What d’you expect, first thing he ever said to me was that my accent was cute,” Mika hums, wriggling his toes as he watches them, then idly switches up his own accent, because if there’s any way to fell Arashi swiftly to his knees other than lick his ear, it’s the far more softly cultured turn that a _deep_ south Sandlands whore can offer up. “ _Kara_ , if you come and lie with me, I’d thank y’kindly…”

 

A strangled whimper dies in Arashi’s throat, and he stumbles a little on his way to the bed, as if yanked by a leash. “That’s not _fair_ ,” he moans, climbing into the bed like an overeager puppy, pinning Mika down. “Using that against me...totally mean....”

 

The door barges open, and the air is suddenly filled with shrieks and squeals. Arashi can’t even think about moving off of Mika before he’s tackled, as is Mika, though at a considerably gentler rate. “Aaaaahhhh! You’re here, you’re here! Papa said we don’t have to stay, but it’s gettin’ to be a long time, doncha knoow!”

 

Mika bats his eyelashes up at Arashi before wriggling his way out from underneath him and snatching up both girls in the next instant. Elia first, then Kinsley, just because one is a bit slower to move than the other, but both end up smushed firmly to his chest. “You’ve both gotten so biiiig! Mama’s missed you sooo much, you’re not allowed to grow up anymore when I’m gone!”

 

Izumi bites his cheek to forcibly keep back a smile. “If you’re able to walk, I’ll take you to grab dinner,” he wryly says to Arashi. “Or do you need a second to collect yourself, Captain?”

 

Arashi glares at him, drawing himself up to his full height. “I can walk just fine, thanks. If these _hellions_ have any orders--”

 

“Give us a minute!” Kinsley orders, already at least as imperious as her grandmother, face buried in Mika’s hair. “Ahhh, we missed you soooooo much! Grandmother says we have to live up here now, but she won’t even let me ride the biggest horses, so there’s only so long I can stand that, doncha know!”

 

Arashi hides a smile behind his hand, then slips out with Izumi, leaving Mika in the care of the little beasts.

 

“Ahh, you sound like your Papa now, not like a girl from the Capital,” Mika hums, swiftly cocooning both girls in blankets and snuggling down with them to make a proper cave. “We’ll have to smuggle you a biiig horse out of here if you’re gonna go back, yeah?”

 

Izumi lets the door click shut behind them, heaving a little relieved sigh. “Good, now he can nest and be happy,” he murmurs, raking a hand back through his bangs. “I hope my mother didn’t put him too on edge, she means well, it’s just been a lot lately.”

 

“He’s on edge anyway,” Arashi confides, falling easily into step next to Izumi. It feels like old times, and he feels something in him relax immediately. “The Capital is crazy. I’ve been running around doing what I can for the king, but I’m only one woman, you know? So he’s been quite lonely, on top of dealing with his Master suddenly being an important person...”

 

“Right, I guess Shu _is_ the…what, Vice-Emperor of the Academy? Or whatever Rei calls him, his Demon Queen?” Izumi wryly says, shaking his head. “Sorry you’ve been having to manage Leo. There’s not much point to it, no matter how I hate to say it. He’s as particular as the damned birds he keeps sending with his letters, which always include transcripts from his conversations with them nowadays. News to me that he could speak bird now, but whatever.”

 

Arashi cocks his head to the side. “I wonder if he’s telling you everything...did he mention all the work we’ve been doing in the Capital, or on the border? I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with him lately.”

 

Izumi’s lips purse in irritation. “No.” _Don’t sound jealous, don’t sound jealous._ “Glad to know he’s got someone else that he can confide in and work with, though. Maybe I will just stay here.”

 

“Don’t you _dare_.” Arashi folds his arms, moving to stand directly in front of Izumi, jabbing a finger at his face. “If I have to hear one more _word_ about you from him, I’m going to be executed as a regicide, so don’t even _joke_ about that. He’s working himself to the bone to try and clean up the mess his damn father left behind, so the least you can do is support him!”

 

“Said as if I haven’t been trying to do that up here! Half the North still thinks he’s a fool, why do you think I’ve been stuck here for so long? Convincing stubborn old men that heard a few rumors and stuck to them as well as young men that thought they’d get a chance at fame for fighting a war is _hard._ ” Izumi huffs, hands on his hips as he glowers back up at Arashi. “I wanted to leave two weeks ago. Stop pointing that in my face or I’ll bite it off, you ass.”

 

“Two weeks?” Arashi demands, hands on hips. “I’ve been expecting you for six _months_ , and so has your liege lord! I’ve finally got the funds to equip my army properly, but I can’t even lead them, because I’m too busy doing your job. And that’s not to mention listening to our great king’s awful love poetry about you, by the way! I need a raise.”

 

“Yes, two weeks ago, you heard me!” Izumi snaps. “I warned Leo it could be several months considering all that I had to deal with up here, so if he didn’t tell you about that, too bad. Believe it or not, but I _was_ about to head south next week, but now you’re here, my mother’s riled up, and smuggling even one of my kids back to the Capital is going to be even more difficult. Not that I didn’t want to see the two of you, that’s not what I’m fucking saying—just—ugh. Forget it, just don’t mention love poetry again, I’m going to get upset. I know you’ve been busy, but at least you’ve had Mika.”

 

Arashi grabs Izumi’s shirt by the collar, hauling him behind a stone wall and shoving him up against it. “Why does seeing you always make me want to shove you around?” he demands, and grabs Izumi in a kiss, teeth rasping as he drags them down Izumi’s lip.

 

Any and all protests die on Izumi’s tongue, and he arches off the wall as if he’s a man dying of thirst and Arashi’s mouth is the first drink he’s had in weeks. “Because you’re merciful and good and feel sorry for me,” he groans, grabbing handfuls of Arashi’s shirt to pull him close and _keep_ him close. “Fuck, you smell nice.”

 

“I’d better,” Arashi says with a laugh, grabbing Izumi’s waist and slamming him against the wall, hoisted up and held off the ground by the press of Arashi’s body. “I paid a fortune for long-lasting scent sprays that would even work on the road, I’ve got extras. Nnh, does no one treat you right up here?”

 

The shake of Izumi’s head is immediate and desperate. “I’ve been here for months and I’m gonna die,” he rasps, squeezing his thighs around Arashi’s hips. He hooks his chin over Arashi’s shoulder, breath escaping as a shivery, ragged thing as he clings to him. “M-maybe literally, so please…”

 

Propriety is one thing--this is just stupid on a self-preservation scale, but Arashi still feels no compulsion to stop. He reaches down, palming Izumi through his breeches, pressing hard sucking kisses to the side of that pale neck. “Am I gonna get strung up if the people see me enjoying their prince against a wall?” he murmurs, squeezing and stroking, savoring the taste of Izumi’s skin after so long.

 

Izumi’s nails drag down Arashi’s back as he arches against him, panting open-mouthed with every stroke to his cock. “Why do you think I can’t _get_ any up here?” he whines, his voice catching up in his throat for a second when Arashi sucks on his neck hard enough to bruise. Thank the _gods_. “T-they all _know_ , and don’t wanna piss you off or offend you…” He swallows loudly, his eyes fluttering as it feels progressively like Arashi’s got his entire _soul_ on a damned leash just by how he’s squeezing him. “Ahhh, fuck, fuck, if I die now, that’s fine…”

 

“What, before I’m in you?” Arashi teases, though his voice is rough and low with arousal as he murmurs the words in Izumi’s ear before biting it. He reaches down, yanking at Izumi’s laces, not even bothering to properly undress either of them. Despite his words, he wraps his hand around both of them, pressing Izumi into the wall with his bodyweight, stroking with a sure, practiced stroke. “We talk about you, when we fuck. Imagine what you’d be doing.”

 

The noise that leaves Izumi is low and rasping, his fingers kneading into Arashi’s back as he clings there, all-too-happy about being pinned and useless underneath Arashi’s weight. Arashi’s cock is so hot and hard against his own that it makes his eyes cross, and he feels his own drip, making Arashi’s fingers slicker with every single stroke, which just makes him harder. Every time he twitches, every time he throbs, it feels like a shock going up his spine, making his nipples tingle and breath catch up in his lungs. _Is this seriously how I’m gonna be after not rubbing it on anyone for a few months?_ Izumi desperately thinks, though he’s too turned on to be embarrassed. “Uh huh,” he mindlessly pants out, stuffing his face down into Arashi’s shoulder, his toes curling in his boots. “I’d…I’d do anything, s-so long as you two felt good…”

 

Arashi is so much harder than he’d anticipated, grinding up against Izumi with a breathless, urgent rock, hand moving rapidly over them both, squeezing at the tip when he feels Izumi starting to leak and drip. “You been thinking about us too, haven’t you?” he teases, nibbling at Izumi’s neck and ear. “I bet you think about us every time you touch yourself--you think about us feeding you, darling? About us forcing you onto your knees?”

 

Izumi stuffs his fist against his mouth, biting down when his voice breaks. It would be nice to not be _so_ on edge that he comes so fast, just from a few good words and Arashi’s _very_ nice hand, but that’s not happening right now, not when he can so easily remember the taste of Arashi’s cock in his mouth, the way Mika’s delicate fingers feel in his hair. A muffled sob escapes Izumi as he spills with a sharp arch of his back, dripping messily over Arashi’s hand, his legs trembling violently where they clamp around Arashi’s waist.

 

Arashi isn’t far behind, spilling against Izumi’s cock with a groan, face buried into his neck. “That’s so good of you,” he groans, hips flexing a few more times, milking Izumi dry with his hand. “Ahhh, I missed you so much, you bastard...I’m going to have my hand on you until we leave, pretty sure...”

 

A low, ragged groan escapes Izumi’s throat, his breath hiccuping with every lingering stroke of Arashi’s hand. His cock gives another, over-eager twitch, and Izumi shudders hard, his fingers digging hard into Arashi’s back. “D-don’t leave me, don’t,” he whines, rubbing his flushed face into Arashi’s shoulder. “I’ll die. Ahhh, fuck…you’re so good, _so_ good,” he breathes, turning his head to mouth a kiss to Arashi’s neck, then up to his ear, then swiftly to his mouth where his tongue _immediately_ tries to go for a taste. “You can do anything you want to me.”

 

Arashi pulls his hand away, shoving the first couple of fingers in Izumi’s mouth. “Suck them clean,” he orders, unnecessarily when Izumi is already so eager, so enthusiastic. “Then put your pants back on, I’ll have you again when we’re in privacy and I can get in you.”

 

Izumi exhales a frustrated little noise, but he’s temporarily mollified by his task and the promise offered up. He noisily sucks Arashi’s fingers clean, tongue laving over them to thoroughly lick over every bit and make sure they’re clean. When he pulls back, it’s with a last flick of his tongue, and he shifts, leaning back against the wall to lower his legs. “Sure you don’t want me to lick everything clean?” he breathes, gingerly settling his weight onto his own feet again.“‘Cause I—ow, ow, cramp.”

 

Arashi laughs, tugging up his breeches and fastening them off. “Stretch it out. And you owe me a foot rub, don’t forget. Nnh, I want that salad, your mom _promised_ me a salad.”

 

“It’s _not_ a salad, not like you’re thinking,” Izumi groans, sagging back against the wall for a moment as he yanks up and ties his own clothes before pulling his leg up to gingerly work out the cramp in his calf. “But she’ll be furious if you don’t eat it anyway, so you’re screwed. Sorry about her in advance, by the way, she’s been in a _mood._ ”

 

“Why, what did you do?” Arashi asks, before reaching over and cupping Izumi’s face. “Also, what the hell is a salad that isn’t a salad?”

 

“Layers and layers of beans and soupy things and sour candies and a sprig of basil on top,” Izumi deadpans, flopping against the wall again with a sigh. He reaches up, curling his fingers against the back of Arashi’s hand as he turns his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I want to take Kinsley back to the capital with me, when I go,” he says. “She’s furious, won’t listen to me when I try to explain that she’ll rot up here if she’s forced to be a Northern lady—which of course just pissed Mama off in twenty directions, and…basically, summed up, according to her, I’m abandoning my people by being at the king’s side. I don’t know what she thought would happen when I went off to be a knight, but…”

 

Arashi’s heart flutters nervously. “You’re not actually thinking of staying up here, are you? Kinsley’s not the only one who’d rot up here. I know you’re the heir, but...” He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I can’t talk, I just hate the idea of you settling so far away.”

 

“Gods, no,” Izumi mutters. “I’ll go fucking insane. For a couple of reasons—ugh, don’t laugh at me, but one of the main reasons…” He heaves a sigh, looking aside, open and honestly _annoyed_ by what he’s about to say. “There’s literally _no one_ that’ll fuck me here. It’s a status thing, to the point they won’t even _touch it_. It makes me feel like I want to rip my skin off, sometimes I can’t even sleep.”

 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, ride out of the Sena estates proper?” Arashi asks, incredulous. “Put on a hat and pretend to be some random farmer that is going to die if he doesn’t suck someone off?”

 

“I know you haven’t seen much of the North, but…this is _basically_ it. Everyone knows who I am. I could get away with it a bit more when I was younger and came back up from the capital during the summer, but even then, it was still girls only.” Izumi wipes a hand down his face, starting to stress and fidget just thinking about the past few months all over again. “I’m gonna go insane. I know I _sound_ like I’m already insane.”

 

“You sound,” Arashi says frankly, “like you need a dick up your ass before you lose your mind. Fortunately, we can take care of that, and then you can feel like a human again, yeah? Have you been crawling back to girls?”

 

“No, fuck, no.” Izumi chews at his lower lip. “I tried,” he begrudgingly admits. “But I…I’ve sort of got a mental block on it now. I don’t want to talk about it, let’s get you something to eat that isn’t one of my mother’s salads, I’ll go kill a cow.”

 

Arashi opens his mouth to protest, then just shrugs. “Yeah, all right. Cows eat grass, that’s almost like a salad. Don’t bother Mika, he’s probably letting them nurse or something.”

 

“You’re eating a salad by proxy. Do you know I walked in on Elia latched to his nipple once?”

 

“I heard about it.” Arashi shakes his head, looping an arm around Izumi’s waist, leading him out towards the stables. “He said she felt bad because she was hungry. What have they been eating up here? They’re not fat, so I assume not northern salad...”

 

Izumi, when pulled close, catches another whiff of how good Arashi smells and feels his knees buckle. _Get it together_ , he mentally scolds himself, horrified at how pathetically desperate he feels. To be fair, he’s never gone _this long_ without before, and it’s bordering less on normal, fun, sex feelings, and more like hunger pangs. Ritsu had been the one to mention something like that before, but actually experiencing it… “They, ah. They’re surprisingly normal? Other than healing quickly. Then again, I was, too, as a kid…I don’t think they can heal others, or if they can, I haven’t seen it and they haven’t told me.”

 

“Mm, I’ve been doing a bit of...don’t laugh,” Arashi warns, “but I’ve been doing a little bit of, I guess you could call it research. On known half-bloods and stuff, and the kids they have. Interesting stuff! From what I can gather, half-bloods have human forms, but all the powers of the nonhuman parent, but quarter bloods can usually pass as normal, unless they know what’s going on and deliberately try to improve their abilities. I found out more stuff too, but...” He shrugs, a little flush creeping into his cheeks.

 

“My kids are lucky, then, they’ll never be as crazy as their papa,” Izumi weakly laughs. The urge to rub on Arashi like a cat in heat is still intensely strong, but he forces himself to curb it back. “What else did you find out? I hate reading up on this sort of thing myself, it just freaks me out the more I learn.”

 

“Don’t tease me for doing all this research,” Arashi warns. He steers them out towards the stable, where his men are starting to care for their mounts. “The really strange stuff starts happening when you get into half-bloods and quarter bloods that intermingle. That turns out some...interesting creatures. So make sure you carefully watch who they wind up with, especially if they’re as horny as their dad when they grow up.”

 

“If they’re lucky, they won’t be, I want to scream _right now_. Hey, did you figure out what you are, all mixed up in there?” Izumi idly squishes himself closer to Arashi’s side, stretching up to lick his ear like he’s seen Mika do dozens of times.

 

Arashi, from long practice of smacking Mika away in similar situations, doesn’t even bat an eye before cuffing Izumi’s ear. “Yeah,” he admits. “That’s one reason I was curious. Looking back, I’ve got a great-great-grandfather there were rumors about. He was a logger, and multiple people said they saw him lift whole trees by himself. And his father isn’t listed. Then on my Ma’s side...” He forces a smile. “This was kind of hard to figure out, but Shu helped me find some of the records. Looks like my great-grandmother was a maid in the Academy for a bit, just before my grandma was born.”

 

“Mmm, so you’ve got some fancy mix-blooded wizard up in there, too,” Izumi murmurs, undeterred, but lays off for the time being. Even if Northerners don’t give a damn about what he and Arashi do, climbing all over him in front of Arashi’s men is still awkward on several levels. At least their social status has more or less evened out now, instead of being the strange mix of Arashi outranking him militarily and Izumi outranking him socially, and neither of them _really_ knowing how to deal with that in a public setting. “I wonder if you were trained if you could be enhanced. I mean, you already are, but I mean in a really magical sense…”

 

“I don’t want to.” That’s a flat refusal, though Arashi smiles to make it seem less harsh. “Honestly, don’t tell Mika this, but magic really freaks me out. I know it sounds stupid and superstitious, but if I could get rid of it, I would. I mean, the strength and the not-dying is nice, but...you ever hear what happened to that guy in High Harbor, Captain Morisawa’s affiliate?”

 

“No, I didn’t.” Izumi spares a nod to the stablehands, but shoos them away when they start to reach for his horse. Privacy is much preferred at this point. “Just ride with me, give Neigh’s legs a rest. And don’t worry,” he tells Arashi, tossing on Vale’s saddle. “I agree with you. I’d much prefer being normal and capable of dying, thanks.”

 

Arashi exhales, swinging up into the saddle, reaching down to pull Izumi up in front of him. “Can’t tell that kind of stuff to Mika. He likes being a wizard, you know. I mean, he doesn’t like _his_ powers that much, but he doesn’t want to be normal or anything. I don’t think he’d know what to do as a normal person. Imagine him trying to sell fruit or something.”

 

“Yeah, he’d try to make little clothes for his apples and give them hats,” Izumi mutters, settling down in front of Arashi and firmly telling his mind to _not_ focus on how Arashi’s dick is on his ass. He sucks in a quick breath, picks up Vale’s reins, and nudges him forward. “He’d still be a prostitute, I think we both know that. Hey, how fresh do you want this? Like, farmer down the road slaughtered his extra steer this morning and still has some nice cuts at the end of the market day, or your beautiful Prince-of-the-North lover literally slits the throat of an enormous mooing mess in the middle of a field and roasts it in the same spot?”

 

“....You’ve really gone off the deep end, haven’t you, darling?” Arashi asks, a little taken aback. “As delightfully, ah, _rugged_ as that sounds, I think I’ll go with the one that doesn’t take several hours.”

 

“There’s nothing to do up here,” Izumi hisses. “Except listen to _everyone complain._ I want to go home, and when I say that now, I absolutely mean the capital which makes my mother so angry. But no, instead I’m up here going insane, trying to keep the North from deciding the capital and king are shit after all. They got _really_ excited up here about maybe being in charge.”

 

Arashi grimaces. “Damn. I was hoping the king’s worries about that were just him being silly. When do you think we _can_ steal you back home? I can only avoid stuff in my dominance for so long...I want to be able to spend time with you lot before your kids forget who I am.”

 

“Steal me now,” Izumi wearily says. “I mean, as soon as you’re ready to head out, at any rate. Maybe if I just leave, this place will calm down. I know it _looks_ calm, but…”

 

He shakes his head, steering Vale out onto a very beaten dirt path. “Long before even my grandparents were in charge here, the North has been the bitch of the capital—the kind that you see someone treating like shit again and again, which is really fucked up when you realize that the one getting treated like shit is the one doing all the work. Produce, meat, all those trendy cold-water fish rich nobles love eating—it’s all from up here. We’ve got whole towns modeled to look like what noblemen _think_ the quaint ol’ North looks like so they can come vacation here and keep treating us like shit. I guess I’m not surprised that the North saw a chance and took it, and that now no one wants to let it go. It’s just touchy, when the really militant ones keep addressing _me_ like they would a king.”

 

Arashi sucks in a breath, tsking a bit through his teeth. “Lord Vanrel, the one that died, the one I replaced? He used to talk about it like some kind of adult playhouse,” he recalls, frowning slightly. “Used to tell us pages that traveling up here would put hair on our chests.” He hesitates. “He’d say other things too, about the locals, but I’m not going to repeat them. I understand why you’d be sick of that, though.”

 

“Yeah. Noblemen come up here with their wife and kids, stash them at a vacation house, and hire a local to take them hunting or fishing or whatever. By that, I mean the locals hunt for them, and _they_ get to bring back the catch like they did all the work—and those are the _decent_ nobles that come through,” Izumi grumbles, and then after a short pause, adds sullenly, “It’s one of the many reasons why my mother _hates_ the idea of me ever being Leo’s consort, as if it’s even remotely possible. To be fair, she’s not wrong…if I did that, I’d look like I’m selling myself to fancy nobles in the capital. ‘He’s never even come up North,’ she likes to remind me.”

 

It’s barely another minute up the road before Izumi turns off onto a much smaller path, bordered thickly by trees, but those soon disappear to reveal a surprisingly sprawling market up ahead. “She likes you,” he quietly adds. “So that’s good, at least.”

 

That soothes a fear Arashi hadn’t realized he had. “I’m glad she likes me. Anyone who raised you has to be pretty awesome, right? I mean, totally crazy, obviously, but...”

 

He leans back, letting the wind blow over his face. “I never could have understood how hard it is to run a whole dominance by yourself when I was younger. Now...I don’t know how anyone does it. If I didn’t have deputies that take care of it when I’m gone...”

 

“I’m not even running it at _all_ , and it makes me want to scream,” Izumi mutters. “I’m not allowed to actually _run_ anything, I just get to observe my mother’s meetings and things like that. It makes me feel like I’m a child again—and then she wonders why I want to leave.”

 

“I mean, you’re going to have to do it someday, right?” Arashi asks. His eyes flick around the market, and he breathes in deep, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells. “You’re lucky that you get to watch someone do it first. And at least you’re older than I was. And everyone around here respects you.”

 

“I know what you mean, but I’ve been training for this my whole life, and my mother won’t let me do shit while still complaining that I’m not doing enough. I’m going to go insane—more than I already am.” Izumi huffs out a breath, pulling Vale up short and sliding off, passing the reins back to Arashi. “Stay put a second.”

 

He disappears down a narrow aisle in the market that horses (especially Northern horses) absolutely can’t fit. A few minutes later, he reemerges a basket on each arm, dodging a few locals that immediately try to stop him for a chat, and hands up the first basket before pulling himself back up and balancing the second in his lap. “Sorry about it, but you’re gonna get addicted to those,” he tosses back. “You’ve never had a real Northern meat bun. I’d tell you to save one for Mika, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t eat.”

 

Arashi gets a whiff of the bun, and stops in the middle of his sentence to take a bite of the bun. Flavor explodes in his mouth, and he whimpers, nearly falling off the horse. “Am I drooling? I feel like I’m drooling. Why do you bother selling produce down South? Sell these, I’ll buy them all--who made this, I’m going to make him a knight in my house--”

 

“There’s like six of them in there, and they’re made fresh every day, so don’t worry, there’s no shortage,” Izumi wryly says, turning Vale around to head back home. “We rarely sell the _best_ meat down South because it doesn’t ship well and it’s best fresh, anyway. Guess you’ll have to stick around up here for the good stuff, huh?”

 

Arashi’s eyes narrow. “You can’t lure me in like this, witch. I have fast couriers, I’ll pay someone to ride up here and grab me some of these every week. It’s just too damn cold.”

 

“Guess what else?” Izumi hums, twisting in the saddle and dangling the other basket back at him. He lifts the edge of the cloth wrapping, and the smell of _very_ fragrant, rich sweets immediately pours out. “You’ll never find better milk chocolate. I know, I know, you like the darker stuff, but _trust_ me, the cakes here are the best, especially with the little caramel bits thrown in. I definitely got extra; if Mika doesn’t eat this, I’m tossing him on the street.”

 

Arashi’s mouth waters again, his stomach growls loudly, and he throws caution to the wind, grabbing what looks like a chocolate teacake and stuffing it in his mouth. Actual tears spring to his eyes, and emotion flows through him, enough that he just sort of smacks Izumi’s shoulder. “I’m so mad at you right now,” he says through teacake. “You’ve been keeping this from me, I _hate_ you.”

 

“You should’ve visited me sooner!” It’s hard not to smile when Arashi is so obviously enjoying himself, so Izumi quickly looks forward to hide it. “Guess you’ll have to stay a bit longer if you want to enjoy it to the fullest. Ah, don’t eat the little hard candies in there, those are specifically for that weirdo. They’re ridiculously sweet and have a cream center, hopefully he’ll enjoy himself.”

 

Tears come to Arashi’s eyes again. “Izumi...you do love him, I _knew_ it, he thought you forgot about him but I _knew_ you loved him!”

 

He steals another tea cake, whimpering at the taste.

 

“Shut up, as if I’d forget about that idiot. He’s so skinny, you better make sure he eats all of that. If he dies, I’m blaming you.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course, I know that’s just how you show him your looooove!”

 

“I’ll toss you and all your newfound addictions into the mud.” Izumi huffs, steering Vale back to the stables, and stops short just outside of them, sliding off of his back. “Let’s go rescue him from my kids.”

 

“He probably won’t want to be rescued,” Arashi points out. “He’s been talking about them nonstop since we set off for this godsforsaken place. I’m pretty sure all of them think those kids came from his loins.”

 

“Fine, then he can stay in my room and we’ll go fuck in the cellars. Pass your food basket down and get off my horse, you brat.”

 

“You put us in your room?” Arashi pretends to be scandalized, passing down the basket. “We don’t even get a guest suite? Wow, I’m offended, I’m a Lord, you know!”

 

Izumi scowls up at him as he takes the basket and hands his reins off to the nearest, yawning stablehand. “One, the assumption we’ve got room for a bastard like you to have his own room. Two, if you don’t want to sleep in my bed, sleep on the floor. Mika likes to cuddle at least.”

 

Arashi slides off the horse, dodging a lazy snap of Vale’s teeth that he’s well accustomed to by now. “Hmm, maybe I won’t charge the Sena estate for all the money you scammed out of me last year after all. If they can’t afford even a guest bed!”

 

“I’ve sucked your cock for free enough times to make up for that,” Izumi sniffs, turning away to stalk back to the estate. “Fine, I see how it is, you don’t want to spend any time with me after all.”

 

Arashi reaches out, yanking Izumi back by the back of his collar. “Have you got that stick up your ass so far that you can’t take a joke?” he asks mildly. “Will you be annoying until I get it out of there?”

 

Izumi tilts his head back, batting his eyelashes up at Arashi. “Probably. I bought you sweets, be sweet to _me._ ”

 

“I was honestly expecting you to ask me to be paid back,” Arashi says with a laugh, reaching down to squeeze Izumi’s ass. “We’ll be those obnoxious nobles, though I have no desire for any cute local boy to do my hunting for me.”

 

“Don’t be an ass, you _are_ my guest,” Izumi grumbles, reaching back to half-heartedly slap Arashi’s hand away. “Because of that, I don’t really have a choice but to spoil you while you’re here, I _guess._ That starts with letting you have my bed, which is absolutely the best one you’ll find.”

 

“Hmm, what a tragedy,” Arashi hums, giving it another squeeze before he lets go. “And of course, it would beimpossibly rude of me, as a guest, to kick you out. So, apparently we have no choice but to share. Ah, where are the girls staying? I want to nail you through that soft mattress of yours, and I’d rather not have them as an audience.”

 

“The more you talk about it, the more I can’t walk,” Izumi huffs, quickening his pace. His face flushes even as he says that, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. Stressful, this is _so_ stressful. Arashi has no idea what this is like, not at _all._ “They have their own room, and my door locks, thank god.”

 

He pauses just inside of the estate, feeling immediately on edge. There’s nothing _visibly_ amiss, but something in the air simply doesn’t feel right, and he hesitates, brow furrowing. “Smells like magic. Or, well, it doesn’t _smell_ , but you know what I mean, right?”

 

Arashi frowns at the estate, trying to feel something supernatural, and coming up empty. He strains, but it’s like trying to smell underwater--it’s a sense he simply doesn’t have. He shrugs, then drops his hand to the hilt of his sword, omnipresent at his hip. “Danger feeling?”

 

“Not exactly, just—tense? Smells like Mika.” Izumi worries at his lower lip, quickening his steps down the hall. “There’s nothing that should be upsetting him here, though—but it _definitely_ smells like him.”

 

“Maybe he had to eat your mother’s salad,” Arashi quips, and walks so fast that he nearly leaves Izumi behind, striding as fast as he can without outpacing Izumi and losing his way.

 

“That’s so much more likely than you’d think,” Izumi quietly says, quickening his own steps to lead the way and throw open the door to his bedroom.

 

His children are absent, but Mika isn’t, and neither is his mother, complete with that damned salad. Mika, scrunched up against his headboard, looks decidedly unimpressed, and the low, underlying ripple of magic in the room is dangerous and uncomfortable enough to make the hair raise up on the back of Izumi’s neck. “Mama,” he firmly says. “Leave him alone, he’ll eat when he wants to eat and not before.”

 

“An’ he’s a growing boy,” Sena Maya says firmly, huge wooden spoon in hand, a white and oozing dollop on the end of it. “Or lady, as the case may be. Now open up, your wiltin’ maiden schtick don’t fool me none!”

 

Mika’s response—and for once, Izumi thinks it’s _very_ justified—is to hiss like a cornered cat, and wriggle himself even further into a tiny ball.

 

“ _Mother._ Mika’s a wizard—remember, I told you how sensitive they are?” he presses, sidling up closer and reaching out to take the spoon from her. “I’ll feed him, you just—leave that salad out for later.”

 

“It’s a good salad,” she insists, looking extremely put out at the amount of effort expended versus salad eaten. “Here, child, come here and eat some, I showed him it wouldn’t poison him, but maybe if you do it--”

 

“Mika’s not a child, Mama, he’ll eat when he’s hungry,” Izumi insists. How is she _so_ oblivious to the amount of tension pouring off of Mika, anyway? “Just like I will. _Please_ don’t shove that in my face either, I’m sure it’s good, but—“ An edge of a rug sparks into purple flame. Izumi hastily steps on it, which seems to do the trick.

 

Maya’s eyes narrow, and she plops the spoon back into the bowl, blinking quickly. “I just want to make a good, welcoming home,” she says with a sniff. “Where I’m from, you feed your guests, and you take what’s given to you, and you don’t go lockin yourself aweey.”

 

“He’s been traveling for weeks to get here, he’s exhausted, and he’s—“ Mika dives underneath a few blankets as Izumi speaks, disappearing in short order. “Overstimulated,” Izumi finishes tiredly. “Mama, don’t cry, c’mon, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll eat your salad.”

 

Another hearty sniff, and Maya walks out, slamming the door shut on Izumi as well. Arashi’s shoulders relax, and he gently prods the Mika-shaped lump. “ _Amaka_? She’s gone, are you all right?”

 

Slowly, the lump unfolds and Mika’s mismatched stare peeks out from underneath the blankets. “She’s not comin’ back, is she?” he whispers, occasionally trembling, much like an animal left out in the cold.

 

“No, she’s furious, she’ll stay away for a bit,” Izumi mutters, setting down the basket of sweets next to his bed and plopping down on the edge. “She gets like that sometimes. Though I agree, you really should eat, you’re mostly bones.”

 

The tense, unstable undertone of magic in the room slowly starts to settle again, and Izumi exhales the breath he’d been holding. Mika reaches out a hand from underneath the blanket for one, firm grabbing gesture in Arashi’s direction. “I’m not good with moms,” he softly says. “She wasn’t mean or nothin’, it was my fault. Sorry.”

 

Arashi grabs the basket, immediately fishing out a few of the little sweets to distract him. “Forget about that, look how cute these are! Ahh, they’re so cute they made me think of you, so make sure you eat up, all right?”

 

He perches on the side of the bed, tousling Mika’s hair sweetly, “We went on an adventure and had meat buns. Izumi has totally been holding out on us, so maybe we should start a trade war...”

 

Mika perks up a little at the sweets, and reaches out to take one from Arashi’s hand. “Blow up the North, then it’ll be warmer ‘cause of all the fire,” Mika decisively says, unwrapping one and popping it into his mouth. His eyes close in pleasure, and he buries himself further into the bed. “Or maybe just start a war so I get all the candy I want.”

 

“Don’t let him steal all the credit, I got those for you,” Izumi gruffly mutters, folding his arms across his chest as he watches them. “You don’t have to start a war if you just stick around, I’ll keep you flush up with candy.”

 

“Don’t worry, I ain’t leavin’ those babies again. They’re mine.” Mika’s tongue pokes out, stained redder from the candy. “Where’s their room? I want them.”

 

“Down the hall, to the right—“

 

Mika scoops up the last few pieces of candy before slithering out of bed, tousled robes and all. “Got it. Bye!”

 

He disappears with the door clicking quietly behind him, and Izumi stares after him for a moment. “Did I say something?” he finally settles upon. “He’s awfully…distant.”

 

Arashi frowns, following Izumi’s gaze. “Honestly, I thought he was acting that way because he missed you,” he says truthfully. “Maybe he just really missed the girls more than I thought...or hell, maybe he’s mad at both of us and we’ll never know why.”

 

“I mean this nicely, I swear, but…I’m so glad you’re fucking normal?” Izumi drops down onto the edge of the bed, shaking his head. “You know what I mean when I say that, right? Half the time, I’m pretty sure I’m _always_ saying the wrong thing to him and I don’t know why.”

 

Arashi huffs out a breath, scooting forward to drape his arms around Izumi’s neck. “I know,” he says quietly. “I’ve loved him for half my life, and I still feel like I don’t know anything about how he works inside. At least you just scream at me when you’re upset, instead of trying to hide it away from me.”

 

“Not everyone’s a damn mindreader,” Izumi mutters, leaning back into Arashi and turning his head to butt his face gently into the side of his neck. “I didn’t know he was bad with parents or whatever, or I would’ve asked my mother to really stay away. So this is probably my fault, sorry.”

 

“I didn’t know either.” Arashi hooks his chin on Izumi’s shoulder, sliding his arms around Izumi’s waist, breathing in his scent for a long minute. “I’ve never tried introducing him to mine. Not sure why I would. Maybe it’s just mothers, since his mom was...you know.”

 

“I know next to nothing about it,” Izumi admits, settling back with a pleased little noise. Arashi is warm, and smells _so_ nice, and it’s difficult to stay focused when he wants to burrow against him and never leave. “He’s never brought it up to me. If there’s something I should be doing to make him hate this all less, tell me, but otherwise, I’m just gonna assume he’s being moody.”

 

“All I know about his mom is that she sold him since he was a kid,” Arashi admits, “and I suspect she’s the one that sold his eye, too. Understandably, he doesn’t like to talk about it much. Mm, you smell so good, I don’t want to talk about sad things...”

 

“Me, either. I’m probably going to die if you don’t start kissing me.” Izumi twists in Arashi’s arms, slinging a leg over his thighs to straddle his lap. “We’ll take care of Mika when he wants our company. If my kids are making him happier right now, good for him for knowing that.”

 

Worry over Mika still nags in Arashi’s mind, but Izumi is warm and sweet in his arms, and extremely _present_. He leans in, starting soft, pressing easy, light kisses to Izumi’s neck, his cheek, his lips. “You missed me as a person too, right?” he teases gently. “Not just because you’re going to die without sex?”

 

“If I didn’t miss you as a person, do you really think I’d buy you cake instead of immediately jumping your bones?” Izumi huffs, draping his arms over Arashi’s shoulders as he leans in to kiss him, lightly nipping, then sucking on his lower lip. “No one up here knows a good sword from a bad one,” he breathes. “And the men _never_ fucking shave. Please talk shit with me later, I’m dying without you.”

 

Mollified, Arashi summons the rest of his strength, committing to being exactly what Izumi wants for the rest of the night, and dumps him on his back, hands working swiftly at his buttons. “I still haven’t bathed,” he warns. “But you’re such a dirty girl, I bet you like that, don’t you?”

 

Izumi immediately melts into the bed, a hard shudder running down his spine. So what if he’s already panting a little? That just makes Arashi’s job easier, so isn’t that a plus? “You smell so good either way,” he groans, arching and wriggling to spread his legs, his own fingers racing to get to Arashi’s laces. “You don’t…you don’t have to do anything special, just…”

 

“Mm, but it’s always special with you,” Arashi murmurs, stroking Izumi’s hair, shifting back to let Izumi at his laces. “Have you got oil for me? I’ve never fucked someone whose mother could walk in at any time, this should be...different...”

 

“Shut up, she’s not gonna walk in,” Izumi complains, eagerly finishing the job of unlacing Arashi’s breeches and tugging them down, enough to free his cock. He shoves himself up onto his elbows to better reach for it, licking his thumb before he lets it drag down the head, slowly working Arashi to hardness. It’s fine if it takes awhile, so long as he _knows_ he’s getting what he wants. “Oil’s between the mattress and headboard, I’ll grab it in a second—just—let me touch you for a minute,” he breathes, lurching up to rub against Arashi’s hand, turning his head to press his mouth to his palm. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 

A pleased, flattered little flush creeps into Arashi’s cheeks, and he strokes Izumi’s lovely fall of silver hair, winding the strands around his fingers. Izumi has beautiful hands, working him to full hardness, though it takes longer than he likes (which Arashi knows, because he has to complain about it constantly). “I already came once today,” he says softly, dragging Izumi’s hair closer, placing a kiss to the strands. “You know that means I’ll go for a while once it’s hard. How many times do you think I can make you come, darling?”

 

Izumi shudders visibly, and his fingers squeeze tighter around Arashi’s cock, overeager. “I’m going to come just from t-thinking about that, if you’re not careful,” he whispers, his chest heaving. It’s not an exaggeration on his part, not when just _touching_ Arashi’s cock after so long makes him struggle to catch a full breath. Arashi petting him already has him on edge, his own cock aching between his legs, and Izumi hastily reaches back to yank the tie out of his hair on an afterthought, giving Arashi more to play with. “Not like you have to fucking _try_ , just the way you talk to me is…”

 

“Get your clothes off. All of them.” Arashi pushes Izumi’s hand away, eyes sharp in the low light. “And do it slow, I want to watch.” It’ll also give his body a little time to catch up, which will hopefully mean that they won’t end the night with Izumi _too_ disappointed in his lack of stamina.

 

Izumi whines through his teeth, annoyed that he’s not allowed to keep touching, but fuck if he doesn’t like the way Arashi sounds when he starts tossing orders around. Obediently, his hands slide up to the fastenings of his shirt instead, his fingers trembling as he tries to take his time tugging open buttons and shrugging it off. He flops back, yanking at the laces of his own breeches, and trying desperately not to let his hands linger when he’s so hard already that it hurts. “The way you fuck me…that’s the best, you know,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering. “You always…the way you move in me, you’re just…”

 

Arashi shucks the rest of his own clothes--it’s hot to fuck in them when neither of them can wait, but he has no idea what kind of laundry service they have up here. Best not to risk more stains than he has to. “That’s because I know what you need,” he says, with a little cheerful hum. He wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly, feeling himself rise to full hardness when Izumi flops around like that, desperate and _hungry_ , hungry for _him_. “And I like giving it to you. Have you been using that oil on yourself while I’m gone, darling?”

 

“Y-yeah, but it’s…” Izumi swallows hard, squirming to yank his breeches down and kick them aside. He can’t wait any longer, and he twists around, fishing out the stashed bottle of oil, half-empty (could be emptier, in his opinion). “Not the same,” he finishes with a huff. “Arashiii, finger me, I like the way you do it best.” Compliments get him everywhere, usually.

 

Well, getting hard again is no longer a concern.

 

Arashi kneels on the bed, grabbing the oil from Izumi’s hand and tipping a generous amount over his hand, wasting no time before sliding a pair deep inside. “Ahh, you really haven’t been playing with it enough, have you? You’re so tight back here, I feel like I’m going to make you cry just with this much...how thick are the walls here, hmm?”

 

Izumi’s breath hiccups. “T-thick enough,” he whispers, his eyes squeezing shut as his legs splay wide automatically, lifting his hips to press down onto Arashi’s fingers, savoring that tense, achy stretch. A mistake, that’s a mistake—he clamps a hand over his mouth just in time to keep back a low, breathy groan when just that much is enough to make his cock twitch, dripping over his stomach already, but not getting the slightest bit softer. A muffled whimper escapes from behind his hand, and Izumi blinks hard, not entirely certain if it’s sweat or tears that’s making him taste salt.

 

“Ahh, really? Thick enough when you’re screaming for more?”

 

Arashi leans in close, nibbling on Izumi’s ear, plunging his fingers in deep, spreading them wide to make sure Izumi is slick and stretched enough to make it good for both of them. “What a naughty girl, you really want all of these big hairy men to hear what they can’t have, don’t you? What they’re not good enough for? You know they must all be dreaming about touching you, and now they’ll get to hear me make you scream...does that get you off? Or do you just like being fingered that much, hmm?”

 

Izumi’s fingers shake before sliding away from his mouth, his hand instead weakly grabbing for Arashi’s back, clinging as he pants and arches, riding down against Arashi’s hand. “Yes,” he rasps out, his lower lip trembling until he bites it, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment, brow furrowing. Even Arashi’s fingers after so long make him ache and feel like he has to spread his legs wider to better take them, but it does little to help, and that only serves to make him harder. “Y-yes—both…I…fuck, you’re so good…at that,” he whines, his nails biting into Arashi’s skin when his voice breaks on a yelp, those long fingers pressing inside him so _perfectly_ that it makes sweat bead at his hairline. “Fuck, you’re gonna…you’re gonna make me c-come again…”

 

“I won’t fuck you until you do,” Arashi sing-songs, turning his hand to curl his fingers, deliberately rubbing over that tense, hard bundle of nerves that he loves teasing. He presses a hard, sucking bite to Izumi’s neck, reveling in the ability to mark him as much as he wants, knowing that Izumi can heal whatever he chooses, taking that as carte blanche to do as he pleases. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you? Show me that you’re worth my cock.”

 

Izumi gasps and jerks, the words barely out of Arashi’s mouth before his cock spills again over his stomach, a much harder, more insistent pulse this time that leaves him panting open-mouthed and nearly twisting sideways from the sudden, intense overstimulation. That doesn’t stop him from clenching down hard around Arashi’s fingers, every breath he takes in making him squeeze around them, and he swallows noisily, tongue flicking out to stop himself before he can start drooling. “Please,” he whispers, pawing weakly at Arashi’s chest. Every bite and suck to his neck just makes him twitch again, and Izumi’s head flops back with a huff of breath, surrendering. “Please, Arashi, _please._ ” 

 

At this point, it isn’t a matter of waiting. Arashi climbs on top of Izumi, pulling his fingers out with another hard suck to Izumi’s neck. “You’re going to be even tighter around me after that, aren’t you?” he murmurs, grabbing himself to guide the head to that slick, inviting hole. He pauses just long enough to tip more oil over his cock, slicking the thick length before pushing in. The tight heat steals his breath, and he has to pause for a moment, stars bursting behind his eyes. “A-aahhh, that’s--come on, let me hear your pretty voice--” He reaches around, finding a nipple and rolling it between finger and thumb.

 

Immediately and eagerly obedient, Izumi arches with a low, rumbling groan, sounding every bit as satisfied as he looks when Arashi’s cock _finally_ sinks into him. His chest heaves with each panting breath, his nipples immediately achingly hard underneath the roll and pinch of Arashi’s fingers as his legs splay, thighs trembling as he tries to open himself up more. “Gods, you—you feel so hot, inside me,” he pants out, his hands dragging down Arashi’s back, feeling the flex and ripple of each muscle. His legs shake down to his toes, but he forces them to work, closing around Arashi’s waist to cradle him between his thighs. “Missed it—missed you—“

 

“Missed you too, love.”

 

The words are almost dragged out of him, and Arashi lunges forward, pressing Izumi down to the bed. He grabs one of Izumi’s hands, pressing it down above his head, lacing their fingers together as he grabs Izumi in a deep, urgent kiss.

 

Izumi is so sweet inside, dynamic and wild, squeezing and grabbing him. Arashi rocks in deep, over and over again, forgetting everything except how good it feels to snap his hips in hard and not worry that his partner is going to break.

 

Izumi melts back with a muffled, pleased sound against Arashi’s mouth, clinging to his hand as he sucks on Arashi’s tongue. When Arashi’s cock slides in deeper, it makes him groan and twitch, his back arching off the bed, and his heels dig in to better brace himself for every powerful thrust of Arashi’s hips. “T-that’s—“ _Perfect, how are you so perfect?_ His other hand reaches desperately up to tangle into Arashi’s hair, clinging there to make sure he doesn’t stop being _kissed_.

 

“You’re-- _shit_ , Izumi--” Arashi’s voice falters, and his head thunks down against Izumi’s shoulder, sweat dripping onto his skin. “You feel so good, I’m--”

 

The words just don’t come, not the way they should, not when everything in Arashi’s mind is shorting out at the sweet squeeze of Izumi’s body. His hands drop to Izumi’s hips, gripping powerfully to yank him down onto every thrust, leaning up to kiss Izumi again, and again, and _again_. Fortunately, his stamina hasn’t deserted him, and he can still focus on giving Izumi what he needs so desperately, rocking his hips in at an angle he knows drives Izumi wild. “You still like it just like this, right?”

 

Izumi’s fingers claw their way down Arashi’s back in instant approval, the low, ragged noise that leaves his throat even further confirmation of how _good_ it is. His breath hiccups, and he groans as his cock gives another, sudden twitch, leaking freely and spilling sticky-slick over the mess already on his stomach. “J…just like that,” he huffs out, dropping a hand to rake his own sweaty hair back from his face before he lurches up to kiss Arashi again, sucking on his tongue. “That’s three,” he breathes, his cheeks flushed, eyes glazed and dilated. “You’re so fucking good at this, you know that? No one fucks me like you.”

 

“I’m going to make it to at least four,” Arashi murmurs, trying not to gloat and failing. “Because, darling...I’m not even _close_ to done.”

 

He pulls out, just to flip Izumi over, yanking his hips up off the bed. He rocks back on his knees, keeping up an easy, grinding pace, dragging every bit of pleasure he can out of Izumi’s shuddering body. “There’s a good girl,” he croons. “That’s how you like to be, right? Facedown, where all you have to think about is how deep I’m in you...”

 

Izumi groans, slinking down until even his shoulders touch the bed, uninterested in holding himself up in any way when Arashi’s _very_ right about how he likes this. His fingers knead into the sheets as his cock drips and throbs with every thrust, his legs trembling, threatening to buckle when Arashi sinks in so deep that Izumi swears he can nearly taste it. “You could…ahh…do this all night…and I w-wouldn’t stop you, even if it was…too much…” He shifts, reaching a trembling hand down to pinch one of his own nipples, drawing it out until he whines. “Arashiii…it feels so good it almost hurts…”

 

“I thought you liked it when it hurt, hmm?”

 

Arashi lets his hips snap in hard and deep once, then pulls back for a few gentle, easy thrusts, followed by another deep rut inside, then more shallow thrusts. He reaches over for the oil, and drizzles it on the exposed shaft of his cock, hissing in pleasure when that makes everything so much nicer, slicker, sweeter. “You’d like it if I really hurt you, hmm? Sorry, love, that’s just not me, you’ll have to suffer through this...”

 

“Nnn…n-not what I meant, j-just, when you..ah…fuck…” Izumi’s head flops down for a moment as he gives up on words, and he sucks in a sharp breath as Arashi’s cock slides in slicker than before, making him squeeze down automatically. His chest heaves, and he paws at the bed helplessly as he squirms back for more. “T-this is good, don’t…god, you’re perfect, don’t you _ever_ fucking leave me again…”

 

Even with the stamina he’d boasted about, Arashi is hard-pressed not to come at the way Izumi wiggles on his cock. He slides in deep, holding inside, just enjoying the tight heat of Izumi’s body as he nibbles on an earlobe, and presses a hand into Izumi’s back, pinning him down to the bed. “Wish I could keep it in you all day,” he murmurs, grinding in again, hardly pulling out at all, just trying to be farther _in_. “Would you like that, darling? You could just--feel like this--all the time--ahh, shit, I’m close...”

 

The noise Izumi makes is low and throaty, more a growl than anything else when Arashi pins him down. His nails nearly cut through the sheets with how tightly he grips them, and he nods helplessly, struggling to find words and failing for a moment. “Wanna feel you—ah, fuck—w-when you come,” he pants out, rubbing his face down into the mattress, unable to find a single cold spot to press his flushed face into. Every part of him feels tingly-hot and overstimulated, and with Arashi buried this far inside of him, every time he moves feels like it’s enough to make Izumi come again. Maybe he hasn’t stopped, actually—it’s hard to tell when he can barely focus on anything beyond the way Arashi smells, the way he’s pressed skin to skin, the way his cock is _so_ hard inside of him… “If you never…took it out…fuck, that’d be good…”

 

It’s less the words, more the rasping low tone in which Izumi says them, that drives Arashi over the edge. He groans, pulling back until just the tip of his cock rests inside Izumi, then drives in deep, the last few thrusts a brutal, savage rhythm that finally spurs him over the edge, that slick friction dragging an orgasm out of him so powerful that he loses his footing, collapsing on top of Izumi with a throaty shout. He’s in as deep as he can be, chest pressed to Izumi’s back as his cock gives another hot pulse deep inside Izumi. “F-feel that?” he groans. “That’s me...in you.”

 

Izumi shudders hard, biting into the sheets when his own cock eagerly throbs between his legs for—fuck, now he’s lost count, but it doesn’t matter, not really, not when his own orgasm is so much less interesting than how it feels when Arashi comes inside of him. Arashi’s weight keeps his cock shoved in deep, and the slick, wet mess inside makes Izumi squirm, his vision blurring at the edges as he bites down on a sob. “You’re…really good at making me a mess, huh,” he rasps, his legs trembling and threatening to give way. Uninterested, Izumi doesn’t even remark on it, far more content to savor how sore and worked over he feels for as long as it’ll last. “You,” he mumbles lowly, “are the greatest gift to man. To me. I’m your man.”

 

Arashi somehow manages to press a sloppy kiss to Izumi’s cheek. “Ahh, saying such nice things, how am I supposed to respond, hmm?” he asks dreamily, nuzzling into Izumi’s sweat-damp hair. “We’re too good at that.”

 

“If you love me and appreciate me, you’ll fall asleep with your cock still in me,” Izumi mumbles, slumping down slowly until he’s flat, more or less. He’s tingly in a pleasant way now, the desperate edge of it gone, so now he can actually _enjoy_ this instead of needing Arashi to keep eating him alive. “You don’t have to do anything with it, just keep it there. Feels nice. You feel nice. And smell nice. Gods, you smell nice.”

 

Arashi’s cock is already wilting, starting to sting, but he grits his teeth and presses a kiss to Izumi’s shoulder. “Go to sleep already so I can tell you I love you without it being embarrassing.”

 

“No. Tell me now, and cuddle me, and let me take you to wife,” Izumi drowsily, contently retorts, burying his face into a pillow. “You can be my Northern queen.”

 

Tears prick Arashi’s eyes, and he buries his face in the back of Izumi’s neck. “That...sounds perfect, you ass. I love you. Be my husband or something, all right? Forever.”

 

“Yeah. I’ll get on that in the morning.” Izumi shifts, using the last bit of his strength to twist onto his side, and more comfortably snuggle back against Arashi’s chest. “Night, you harlot,” he murmurs, grabbing for one of Arashi’s hands. “Love you, too.”


	27. Chapter 27

When Izumi and Arashi finally _do_ emerge, Arashi looks like he’s been eaten alive by wolves _and_ run over by a herd of horses. Izumi is glowing, bright-eyed and energized, and this combination is entertaining, to say the least.

 

Mika lingers nearby as the two of them attempt to formulate trade agreements that involve a whole lot of Izumi _needing_ to return to the Capital, and Arashi _needing_ to return West. It isn’t going terribly productively when Arashi is nursing his wounds and Izumi is occasionally sucking on his neck, and overhearing Arashi’s terrible grasp of math is starting to give Mika hives, but, well. At least it gives him time to sit, spend time with Izumi’s children _and_ his lovers, plus teach these kids a thing or two about what actually matters.

 

“Put your hand right here,” he instructs Elia, holding out the complicated, interwoven network of strings between his fingers. She tentatively reaches forward, doing as she’s told, and Mika switches his grip, twisting the system of strings around and pulling them so that it interlocks over her fingers instead. “Neat, right?” he hums after her delighted gasp. “Spread your fingers, jus’ like that, an’—“ Instead of the pull of his own hand, it’s a little spark of magic that makes the strings change shape, pulling around Elia’s hands to resemble something like a spiderweb instead. “Can’t teach you that one, but it’s still pretty, right?”

 

“Please don’t turn them into wizards,” Izumi calls over amidst his scribbling, and Mika rolls his eyes, unraveling the string with a pull of his pinky.

 

“Ain’t how it works, _and_ they’re cute girls, so you ain’t gotta worry about it. Though you’d both be cute wizards,” he adds underneath his breath.

 

“Granny says wizards can’t do as much as a strong man with a sword,” Kinsley says, brow furrowed. She twiddles a little figure of a horse in her hands, with ball-joint knees that really articulate. “She says no wizard ever got born that can stop an army.”

 

Arashi shoots Izumi a glance, amused. “Are wizards not thought of as terribly important up here?” he asks.

 

“They’re okay. We don’t get that many,” she explains, effortlessly referring to herself as part of the North after just a year of living there. “There was one, that knew Papa. But he’s gone now. If they get born here, they don’t stay here.”

 

There’s an odd twitch that goes through Izumi at that, and he has to take a quick breath to refocus, ink dripping from his quill in the moment that he seems to glaze over. Mika watches him, head cocked, until Izumi shakes it off, dabbing up the splattered ink. “That’s because wizards have to go South to be taught…and there’s not many jobs for them up here. There’s an Academy outpost just outside of Sena, but there’s rarely anyone posted there.”

 

“Your grandma doesn’t know anythin’ about wizards,” Mika bluntly says, winding the string around his fingers again before splaying them again, each strand falling into place without him actually, visibly pulling on it. “‘Specially if she’s only really known th’ one. Wizards…wizards like Master, for example. He can do anythin’. I’ve seen him stop more than jus’ an army.”

 

Arashi hides a smile, wiping ink-smudged fingers on a nearby rag before sketching out another set of figures. “Get ready for a tall tale,” he whispers to Izumi.

 

“Eh? What’s he do?” Kinsley asks, skeptical but obviously intrigued. “Uncle Rei says his mad girly friend can see the future, there’s nothin’ cooler than that, right?”

 

Elia scoots closer, ducking underneath Mika’s arm to nestle against his side and watch the game of cat’s cradle that he can play entirely by himself. Mika adjusts her to set her on his lap, exhaling a little hum. “That’s pretty cool,” he agrees. “But Master…the stuff he can do is cooler. He can stop ocean tides ’n change ‘em all around, make whole cities think they’re in diff’rent seasons, burn entire forests to the ground…he could level an entire city jus’ by _thinkin’_ about it, that’s how strong he is.” He leans in closer to Kinsley, eyes gleaming. “Your Papa’s armies _wish_ they were as strong as him.”

 

“You’re going to scare them,” Izumi sighs, rolling his eyes.

 

“I’m jus’ telling it like it is. Master’s the _strongest._ ”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s a fairy tale,” Arashi assures the girls, who ignore him completely. “A single person can’t do all of that. We went through a war with him and the most I ever saw him do was set a tree on fire.”

 

“What kinda city?” Kinsley asks, eyes huge and round as they focus on Mika. “How big a city? What happens to all the people?”

 

“A _big_ city, like th’ Capital,” Mika says, entirely ignoring Arashi as he leans in close. Elia’s eyes are enormous as she clings to the ends of Mika’s hair, staring up at him. “All the people would die, jus’ like that. Poof!”

 

“Sure would’ve been useful against some Inglings, huh,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath.

 

“He ain’t a _demon_ ,” Mika huffs, whirling around to glare at both Izumi and Arashi. “He ain’t jus’ gonna do it all out of nowhere. But he’s tested it, on th’ Academy’s power scales, he’d level a whole city in no time.”

 

“And we all know those scales are totally accurate all the time,” Arashi says, just as quietly as Izumi, with a little smirk on his face.

 

“A whooooole city?” Kinsley asks, eyes wide. “Can he blow up a boy called Rolan? He pulled my hair at the orphanage. I won’t forget.”

 

“Y’all ain’t know nothin’ about the Academy, anyway,” Mika sulkily retorts as he turns back to both girls, much more pleased with this audience. “I’ll blow ‘im up for you if Master ain’t got time, don’t worry,” he reassures Kinsley. “But he could do it, for sure.”

 

“If Shu’s so powerful, why isn’t he the Emperor instead of Rei?” Izumi idly tosses over. “Seems like a bit of a problem there.”

 

“‘Cause there’s different _kinds_ of powerful, obviously. Y’can’t even begin t’compare Master and Rei’s magic, ’s so different,” Mika huffs. “Your Papa’s awfully skeptical for someone who’s half snake.”

 

“Half snake?” Kinsley cocks her head, turning to look quizzically at Izumi. “Is it hidden in your boot or something, Papa?”

 

“It’s a weird Southern joke,” Izumi flatly says. “Right, Mika?”

 

Mika’s lips purse, annoyed, and he readjusts Elia in his lap, pulling her hair back over her shoulders to busy his hands with braiding it. “Yeah, sorry. Anyway,” he begins anew, switching deftly to Sandtongue, mostly because he knows it’ll annoy Izumi and Arashi like none other when they can’t follow the conversation, “your Papa and Dad over there think they know s~o much about wizards, but they don’t know half of it. Master’s the strongest wizard that ever lived, he could make Lord Rei beg for mercy.”

 

Kinsley’s eyes brighten. “Really?” she asks, in accentless Sandtongue. “Uncle Rei makes flowers happen just by thinkin’ about them. Mama, I wanna be a strong wizard when I grow up. I’ll be good at it, like your Master!”

 

“He’s filling their heads with nonsense,” Arashi grumbles, scribbling out a mistake on the paper, succeeding in blotting his fingers further. “Oh, for the love of--”

 

“I wanna be a wizard, too,” Elia softly says in Sandtongue as well, tilting her head back to stare up at Mika, her eyes enormous. “Then I can have a pet cow instead of the ones that keep getting eaten.”

 

“I swear, the only time she ever talks is in Sandtongue,” Izumi crossly says underneath his breath, fishing out a handkerchief to shove it in Arashi’s direction. “Wipe your hands properly, you idiot.”

 

“You should have a pet cow even if you aren’t a wizard,” Mika huffs, patting the top of Elia’s head before tilting her head forward again so he can finish his braiding. “Mmnn, unfortunately, ladies don’t ever get wizard powers,” he apologetically says. “Weird, isn’t it?”

 

“That’s stupid!” Kinsley folds her arms, face a scowl. “I’ll just be Granny’s heir, then. Then I can own the North and have a bunch of wizards do what I say. And you’ll live here too, right?”

 

Arashi wipes his hands, looking disdainfully at the paper. “Why don’t your wizards invent spells to do math for us?” he calls. “That seems a lot more useful than making people think it’s summer when it’s autumn.”

 

“If you get wizards that can make it feel like it’s warmer up here, I’ll stay,” Mika cheerfully answers before turning around, staring back at Arashi with a slow blink. “What’s the math, _kara?_ ” he asks mildly, switching back to common tongue. “Maybe Izumin should help.”

 

“My stupid accountant,” Arashi groans, narrowly avoiding wiping his face with ink-stained hands. “He wrote down how much feed I need for a single horse for a week, ten units, but not how much I need for a battalion of a hundred! I’ll have to send it back to him, ugh.”

 

Kinsley frowns, looking over at Izumi. “Is this a test, Papa?” she demands. “Like a trick to see if I’m cheating on my sums?”

 

Izumi bites his tongue, hard, and reaches over to gently take Arashi’s scribbles away from him. “Why don’t you just let me do this, too, actually?”

 

“Be sweet, no teasing,” Mika whispers in Sandtongue again. “Your Dad doesn’t have the mind for sums.” He doesn’t want to think it’s sort of charming, but…

 

“But it’s easy,” Kinsley objects, looking between Arashi and Mika, tactfully staying in Sandtongue. “Didn’t he have a Granny to teach him school stuff?”

 

Arashi watches over Izumi’s shoulder, feeling a headache start behind his eyes. “Hey, is it that easy? Just putting a zero on the end? You’re not cheating and messing with my sums, are you? I don’t want my horses to get hungry...”

 

“Do you think I, of all people, am going to let your horses go hungry?” Izumi shoots back, flicking a bit of ink off of his quill and in Arashi’s direction. “Sit back and take a break, wives are meant to be beautiful, not smart.”

 

 _His joke, not mine,_ Mika idly thinks. “I don’t know how they teach that sort of thing in the West, but maybe not as well as they do it here,” he admits with a little shrug. Elia, hair now neatly braided, has started to doze off against his chest, clinging loosely to his cloak. “Or maybe you’re just really smart, hmm? My Master’s the one who taught me.”

 

“I wanna hear more about your Master,” Kinsley says eagerly, forgetting about her father, Arashi, and math all at once. “Can he make me tall? I don’t wanna be short anymore, I want to be big enough to ride a Northern mare like a real warrior lady.”

 

“You’re not short, you’re just young,” Mika admonishes, reaching out to tuck a curling strand of Kinsley’s hair behind one ear. “You’re going to be taller than me soon. If you eat a lot of these Northern cows, you’ll be tall on your own and won’t need my Master to change anything, but…I bet he could make you tall. Or he could make everyone _think_ you’re tall by messing with everyone’s mind all at once. He’s good at that.”

 

“I want him to teach me,” she declares. “I wanna learn how to mess with everyone’s minds! And to be tall! And I want my hair to be pink, too, you should write him a letter and tell him that I wanna have pink hair. The boys around here all have a lotta hair, too. That’s why Papa won’t kiss them, they’ve got hair on their faces.”

 

“Ehh…is that so…” Mika spares a brief glance back at Izumi, eyebrows raised, then looks back to Kinsley. “He likes it when Dad’s got hair on his face,” he says lowly. “But Papa can’t tell him because Dad’ll get embarrassed. Hmm, I wonder if your hair is resistant to glamours or not…” he murmurs, tousling Kinsley’s head of hair gently. Unlike her father, she seems to much prefer it kept short, no matter how fast it grows. “My Master could turn it any color you wanted, I bet. He’s good at making things fancy.”

 

She flops back, carefully storing her little horse figurine on the bedside table. “Can you turn my hair a color?” she asks, reaching up to tousle it herself. “You’re a wizard too, Granny says you’re a special kind. I wanna see special magic.”

 

“Mm…I could probably only turn it black or something like that,” Mika apologetically says. “Which is boring, I know. My magic’s not special, not like Master’s is.”

 

“Actually, you’re right, Arashi. I’m sick of your accountant wasting my paper as I have to work all this shit out—“

 

“What is it?” Mika abruptly interrupts.

 

Too annoyed, Izumi answers instead of being a smartass: “Seventy-eight times a hundred and twenty three.”

 

“Nine thousand, five hundred and ninety four.” Mika turns back to Kinsley, switching back to Sandtongue. “What kind of wizard did your Granny say I was? Nothing bad, I hope?”

 

Izumi ignores Mika, continuing his own calculations before reaching the same conclusion with a softly muttered “What the fuck” underneath his breath.

 

“It’s got to be magic,” Arashi declares, frowning at the sums. “Ugh, I’m wasted on sums, I’m going to rub your shoulders while you do them for me.” He shifts, letting his hands drift to rub Izumi’s shoulders. “And I’m firing my accountant, he always says I owe the King money at the end of Midwinter.”

 

“Granny says you can talk to dead people,” Kinsley says softly in Sandtongue, as if it’s a huge secret. “She says that you’re the...nnh, I don’t know the word in Sandtongue. Someone who can’t never die, but you can go to death and back whenever you want.”

 

“Yes, those are called taxes, Captain,” Izumi deadpans, though his eyes flutter shut for a moment the second Arashi touches him. “But I’ll see if I can do anything to, ah, lower those…you’re so rich it shouldn’t matter, you bastard.”

 

Mika tunes the two of them out, petting Elia’s hair slowly as she snores quietly against his chest. “There’s not really a word for it in Sandtongue,” he quietly says. “Also, what your grandma says isn’t quite right. I think I can die just fine, it’s…other people, that go back and forth when I tell them to.”

 

Kinsley’s mouth opens, pupils of her eyes expanding rapidly. “Up here,” she says quietly, snuggling closer, “they wouldn’t call you a wizard. A wizard is the kind of person that makes fire when there’s just wood. Someone that goes back an’ forth...that’s more like a god.”

 

“Regular wizards don’t want to call me a wizard, either,” Mika admits with a little laugh, tugging Kinsley closer and tucking her underneath his cloak. It’s not his Nooncloak—traveling with that draws too much attention, but it’s still something Shu made, lined in soft velvet and certainly looking more expensive than the rest of him. “But I’m _definitely_ not a god. I don’t like my magic very much…at least, not that stuff. It’s creepy, and not in the cute way.”

 

“Rolan used to say I was creepy.” Kinsley snuggles into the soft cloak, that feels delightfully familiar, from that beautiful, magical time when her father had first plucked her off the streets. “Some of Granny’s guards say it, when they think I can’t hear. But those are the bad ones. They think Papa is only loyal to His Majesty.”

 

“Rolan sounds like he needed to be shoved off a cliff,” Mika very seriously says, petting Kinsley’s hair. “You should point those guards out to me sometime so I can spook ‘em and show them what creepy really is. You’re not creepy, you’re beautiful.”

 

“I fell off my horse,” she admits. “And I guess I split my head open pretty bad on one of the ice rocks. But, you know...it doesn’t...stick...”

 

“Mm, but that’s cool, not creepy. And pretty magical, right?” Mika ruffles her hair the wrong way. “You _really_ look like your Papa…ah, in more than one way. The way I see people, it’s not just faces and things, everyone’s got a little hourglass—“ He reaches down to tap right above Kinsley’s heart. “Right here. Your’s is pretty close to your Papa’s. So that’s cool, right?”

 

Kinsley beams with pride, clasping the spot on her chest. “I wanna be like him. How about Elia’s? She’s not...like me, not really. She scraped her arm last week and it took a whole hour to get better. So I’ve gotta take care of her.”

 

“Her’s isn’t quite the same,” Mika agrees. “Much more like your grandma’s, you know? But still not quite like that.” He pauses, debating whether or not to ask a _child_ things like this, but if he’s just asking, not suggesting, there can’t be any harm… “Do you want to go to the capital like he did, and be a knight?”

 

Kinsley frowns, chewing on her bottom lip. “Luca says ladies can’t do anything in the capital. But I...” She lowers her voice, though she stays in Sandtongue, flicking her eyes side to side to see if her father is listening, but fortunately, he seems quite deep in sums. “I look like a boy if my hair is short like this. A capital boy, not a big hairy proper boy. That’s why I wanna be taller.”

 

“Ahhh.” Mika leans back, contemplative. He probably shouldn’t encourage this kind of thing, not without Izumi’s blessing, but Izumi’s been close-mouthed about where his children are going to stay when he goes to the Capital, and that’s _annoying_. He might as well take matters into his own hands, just a little. “Your Papa’s not that tall, so probably, no one will even bat an eye about you,” he murmurs. “But I don’t know how all that works…you should tell him you want to go back with him when he leaves, and why. He already breaks a lot of rules.”

 

“If he doesn’t let me...I’m probably gonna do it anyway,” she says frankly. “I don’t know the way, but I don’t think I’ll starve to death on my way. And I look enough like him that no one will think I’m lying, and I know where Granny keeps the gold. And...” She hesitates, then confesses, “And I know that with Papa’s reputation, everyone’s gonna believe he has another bastard no one heard of.”

 

Mika’s lips twitch in amusement. “I bet a lot of people around here think a little girl isn’t a problem when she listens in on conversations, huh. Good, show them otherwise.” He sits back, shifting Elia on his lap, getting a good look at Kinsley’s face straight on. “You _definitely_ could pass as a boy, you look just like him,” he says. “Especially if you show up on a fancy Northern horse. Just steal one, it’s not like it’s going to kill you.” He’s a bad influence, definitely. “And if you’re ‘another bastard’, you’re still your Papa’s, so I bet the king would shelter you, even if the court nobles got uppity…”

 

“But...” Kinsley nibbles at her bottom lip, trying not to be too excited, knowing this is the closest she’s ever gotten to success. “If I get found out, that’s trouble. And what if Papa thinks it’s a bad idea, and he tells on me? And what if the King tells on me? And what if Granny is mad and gives the North to Elia?”

 

“The North is cold,” Mika complains. “And you’re going to be like your Papa, aren’t you? You’ll never be up here if you’re a knight in the capital. Plus, it’s your Papa, so he won’t tell on you because he wants you safe. Telling on you would ruin that…which is why the king’ll keep his mouth shut, too, I bet. Ahh, but don’t listen to me too much, I don’t know much about how the capital works with this kind of thing…”

 

“But you’re the best to talk to,” Kinsley assures him, snuggling in close again. “And you know a lot about a lot of good stuff. And if you can be a lady, I can be a knight, right?”

 

“I mean…” Mika hedges, tucking his cloak around her firmly. “I’m not really a lady. It’s just people up here that call me that because you and Elia call me Mama. Either way, though, you should be a knight. I don’t think it matters what’s under your skirt if you’re decent enough with a sword. In the Sandlands…ah, that’s not important.”

 

“I wanna be the king.” Kinsley shrugs, and nestles into Mika’s shoulder. “I think that would be good. I’d be good at it. Granny says I can be in charge of the whole North, and everyone up here says the North should be in charge of the whole country.”

 

Mika pauses at that, flipping over a few different choice responses. “Sounds like too much work, if you ask me,” he eventually, quietly says, stroking a hand down her back. “If you’re the king, you don’t have a lot of freedom. You should protect the king we’ve got, then you can let him do all the things that aren’t fun and you can be with your Papa a lot more.”

 

“But I wanna fight! I wanna fight in wars, I wanna fight berserkers like you and Papa and Dad, I wanna fight _dragons_!” All of Kinsley’s tiredness vanishes, and her eyes blaze with excitement. “I wanna kill all the Inglings and snogs, and take over the Shadowlands!”

 

“Don’t kill snogs, they’re cute,” Mika scolds, leaning away to tap her on the nose. “If you’re king, you can’t do any of those things. You’ve got to be a knight if you want to go off to war. How good are you with a sword, can you beat your Papa yet?”

 

Kinsley pauses, looking over her shoulder at her father, eyes squinting appraisingly. “Probably,” she decides. “Mostly I beat everyone because I’m not afraid to get cut, so they think they’ve got me and then I just step into the blade and then I win.”

 

Mika winces immediately at that. “That’s bad, you can’t fight like that in the capital, you’ll draw too much attention to yourself,” he says with a shake of his head. “And you definitely can’t fight dragons or Inglings until you can beat your Dad.”

 

Kinsley flips back off of the bed, with the kind of acrobatic skill born of an absolute lack of fear. “Papa,” she says suddenly, switching back to Common tongue. “Fight me.”

 

Izumi blinks, glancing up from his ledgers to stare at his daughter. “Ah—what? Mika, what did you tell her?”

 

“Nothin’,” Mika says, slithering down underneath his cloak to cradle Elia to his chest. She sleeps the sleep of the dead, drooling a little into his cloak.

 

“I very strongly do not believe that.”

 

“If I can beat you, I can beat all the Inglings,” Kinsley says seriously. “I got a sword, a Northern one like they train with. I’ll fight you on the glaciers like the coming of age, okay?”

 

Izumi’s mouth opens and shuts, and he sets his quill down to rub a pair of fingers slowly across the bridge of his nose. “If Mika told you that, he’s mistaken,” he says. “I’ll give you a lesson later, when your grandmother isn’t lurking about, but I’m not fighting you right now.”

 

Kinsley scowls, and grabs her cloak from the door. “I’m going riding,” she says in Sandtongue. “On Vale.” With that, she darts out of the door.

 

“What? What did she say?” Izumi snaps, his glare immediately snapping to Mika. “Gods, why’d you have to teach them your damned mothertongue? I swear, it sounds different every time one of you speak it, I don’t know how they picked it up.”

 

Mika’s lips purse, unimpressed, and he rolls over to present Izumi with his back while tossing over his shoulder in sharp, primly unaccented common tongue, “They’re smart and well-educated and can be useful outside of being broodmares, which is a pretty damned good reason for them to learn it, if you ask me.”

 

Izumi scowls, whirling on Arashi next. “Why are Southerners always like this? You deal with him, I’m going to chase her down.”

 

He storms out, and Mika rolls his eyes, sparing a glance over his shoulder to Arashi. “He’s still so rude sometimes and I don’t like it.”

 

Arashi stretches out his shoulders, rolling each of them in turn. “That’s just how he is, you know that. What’s so new about it? Mm, you hurt his feelings, you know.”

 

“Well, he hurt mine first,” Mika sulkily retorts, squishing Elia to his chest as if she’s a plush toy. She doesn’t even flinch in her sleep, which is _wonderful._ “He always acts like where I’m from is somethin’ to insult, it’s mean.”

 

“I don’t mean right now. I mean when we showed up, and you scooped up those babies and left him behind.” Arashi tucks a long strand of hair behind his ear, trying not to come off too accusatory when he know that just makes Mika shut down. “You haven’t even given him a kiss, and he went out of his way to get you special candy. He missed you a lot, you know.”

 

“Every time I’ve thought about givin’ him a kiss, he’s busy givin’ you one,” Mika mumbles underneath his breath, but he sighs all the same, shutting his eyes. “’s not like I didn’t miss him, too. I’m jus’ not in the mood for…all of this.” He flutters a hand helplessly. If Shu were here, he wouldn’t have to explain what _all of this_ meant, and that makes his chest hurt. “His mom, she’s…a lot. Plus all his clingy advisors, and the weird townspeople that act like he’s th’ king…stressful.”

 

“But we’re not here for all of that. We’re here for him. Unless...” Arashi swallows, not exactly sure how to go about tackling this subject. Carefully, he stands from his chair, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Do you not want him to be a part of us anymore, _amaka_? I...I don’t want you to think that...ahh...I’m no good about talking about this kind of thing, but...you know that you don’t have to be with him, right?”

 

Mika blinks, then vehemently shakes his head, disturbed that his response is being read like _that._ “No—no, that’s not—I’m not tryin’ t’break anything off or anything like that, I mean it,” he hurriedly says, turning his head around to look up at Arashi, wide-eyed. “I…sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come off like that? I jus’…” He swallows, shrugging. “His mom really threw me off and I haven’t felt good since, sorry…it’s kinda hard to separate that from…everythin’ else, I guess.”

 

Arashi gives what he hopes is an encouraging look, though the worry doesn’t really ease from his face. He reaches over, and pats Mika’s knee. “If you want to tell me that it’s just about his mom, I’ll believe you, if you want,” he offers. “But just so you know, it’s a hard sell. To me, too.”

 

Hesitation flickers openly across Mika’s face, and he shifts, tucking Elia underneath the sheets before slowly turning to face Arashi. “Sorry,” he says again, more quietly this time. “I mean, it started with his mom. But I…I dunno. I guess it just feels like I don’t really fit in here. I don’t want t’cause problems for Izumin because people think I’m like…actually his kids’ mom or somethin’, ‘cause I heard some people gossipin’ about how he’s really got a Southern mistress after all, and…” He waves a hand, stressed and flustered. “I ain’t a noble. I’ll never be. Sometimes, I think…I think it’d be easier, if you two didn’t have to think about where I fit in, ‘cause you’re both so…”

 

“So in love with you?” Arashi interrupts, tapping a long finger against Mika’s lips. “ _Amaka_. Love isn’t easy, you know? It’d be easy if I wasn’t with either of you and I could just marry a lady, like my councilors say. It’d be easy if you and I were exclusive, and I didn’t have to trek up here to this goddamned wilderness. I’m not...I don’t love you because it’s _easy_.” He reaches up, tucking a wild dark curl behind one ear. “And neither does Izumi. Neither of us are afraid of trouble, you know? Or I’d be a carpenter and he’d be a good little Northern Lord.”

 

Mika slowly nods, still obviously unsure, but he leans forward to butt his head against Arashi’s touch all the same. “I’ve been tryin’ to keep that in mind,” he softly says. “Sorry that I’ve been weird. Once I get all out of sorts, it’s…hard to bounce back sometimes when I can’t figure out how to fix myself up, heh.”

 

“Is there a way I can help?” Arashi forces a smile, and scoots closer, so his hand doesn’t have to be extended so far, and he can tuck Mika’s head against his chest. “I don’t want to sound patronizing, like I’m trying to fix you or anything, you know we both love you the way you are. Just be nicer to Izumi, would you? You’re hurting his feelings, and I honestly do not have the stamina to pull my weight and yours in the bedroom.”

 

“…Maybe if I knew better what his plans were, I wouldn’t feel so nervous,” Mika admits, burrowing closer. His fingers curl into the front of Arashi’s shirt, absently pulling on the laces at his collar. “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt his feelings. It’s just…I don’t like not knowin’ where we’re all gonna be in a few months. Stressful. Scary. ’s hard to settle an’ enjoy this when I dunno if I’m gonna get dragged t’ the capital, or out west, or if I gotta stay here, or…”

 

“This trip up North was your idea,” Arashi reminds him gently. “You can tell me that stuff all you want, but you were so excited to see him back in the Capital, it just...I feel like something happened and you’re not telling me.”

 

“It wasn’t _just_ my idea,” Mika huffs, stuffing his face into Arashi’s shoulder. “N..nothin’ happened. I swear.” _Everything I’m telling you is true, stop trying to drag more out of me._ The words linger on the tip of his tongue, but Mika swallows it down. Saying the one other thing that’s bothering him won’t help, either; it’ll just make him sound selfish and stupid, and he’s not interested. He sucks in a quick breath, and sits back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Um, y’should go get Izumin an’ bring him back. I wanna be in a cuddle sandwich.”

 

“All right, love.” The doubts still linger, but what can Arashi do if Mika doesn’t want to share? He presses a kiss to Mika’s wild curls, then pats his head, scooting off of the bed to leave the room.

 

Knowing Kinsley, he heads for the stables, and finds her apparently over her mood, balancing on the edge of a barn door, chatting animatedly with her father. “And then Granny said that someday you’re gonna wise up an’ marry Dayton, an’ I said that’ll happen if he loses twenty years, twenty stone, and twenty pounds of hair. That’s the last time I got my ears boxed.”

 

“Mostly it’s the twenty pounds of hair,” Izumi agrees, feeding carrot after carrot to an enormous dapple grey that looks suspiciously like Vale, but with a huge white blaze on her forehead. “Give it a rest tryin’ to tell her anything aboat the kind of men I’ll marry, she won’t hear it. If you like men like Dayton, though, don’t tell me. Fuck,” Izumi mutters as he catches sight of Arashi, and tries to mentally recalibrate the way he speaks. “Arashi. I would’ve been back in a minute.”

 

Arashi laughs, a gentle tinkling sound, and is suddenly grateful that Izumi had worn him out so thoroughly that he can’t even consider getting hard. “Don’t worry about me, darling. Mika just sent me to see where you were, and to fetch you to be sandwich bread. When you aren’t busy loitering...aboat.”

 

Kinsley hops off the barn door, feet hardly raising dust as she lands nimbly on the hay-covered barn floor. “I’m goin’ to play up on the glacier, Papa. Karus says if I can beat him in an ice race he’ll jump in the pool full nekkid.”

 

“He’ll die, so try to lose,” Izumi says, reaching over to thoroughly muss Kinsley’s hair. “But have fun, anyway.” The horse nips the last carrot out of his hands, and he pats her neck before turning to Arashi. “I’ll shove you off _a boat_ and drown you the next chance I get,” he lowly warns, though without a single ounce of vitriol in his voice. “What’s this about being sandwich bread? He doesn’t think being a cannibal is cute now, does he?”

 

“Not sure, but I _think_ he just wants to be the filling.” Arashi slips an arm around Izumi’s waist, tugging him close. “I still think he’s got some kind of cold in his magic or something, he’s acting so moody.”

 

“So long as he’s not actually going to eat us—I have to check, wizards are weird,” Izumi mutters, stretching up to steal a quick kiss from Arashi’s mouth. He restrains himself from doing more than that, for once. “Did you ask him about it? Don’t tell my mother he’s got a cold, she’ll feed him an unholy garlic concoction.”

 

“Yeah, I think the more we can keep him safe from her, the better,” Arashi cautions. He looks around, then asks, as casually as he can, “So, what do these people see my rank as? Like, if I renounced my dominance and moved up here to have you in my bed full time, would that be...allowed? Just asking for, I don’t know, make believe.”

 

Izumi pauses, rocking back onto his heels as he idly loops his arms around Arashi’s waist, lacing his fingers together at his lower back. “Don’t say things like that so casually, it makes me hard,” he bluntly warns. “They see you as another lord, but on par with my mother. The West is yours, after all; to them, your standing there is the same as my mother’s here.”

 

“So...” Arashi raises an eyebrow. “What if, for example, I got, um, removed from my post? Would I still be able to move here and be your husband?”

 

“…What did you do? _Are_ you getting removed from your post? Do you need me to write a letter—or get Leo to write a letter?”

 

Arashi grimaces. “It’s probably nothing,” he lies. “Just some stuff with local customs, and me wondering how long I can keep listening to those boring old losers droning on and on before I go absolutely insane, you know?”

 

“Arashi…” Izumi heaves a sigh, tilting his head back to stare skyward. “All right, assuming you got removed from your post in the West—if the king still gave you an army and you had that sort of standing, you would still be appropriate for me to sleep with, _maybe_ marry. Well, marry in the Northern sense. Until the Capital recognizes this sort of thing, the most we’ve got there is a contract saying we’re allies, in their eyes. Up here, though, you’d be acknowledged as my husband.”

 

“Hmm.” Arashi taps his chin, then decides, “Get it recognized by the capital, and then we’ll talk. I don’t want to turn my back on everything I’ve worked for without, hmm, you know. I’ve gotten quite used to having a fancy title.”

 

Izumi scowls, releasing Arashi’s waist. “As if I haven’t asked a million times. Don’t lie, you just want to marry me because I’ve already got heirs and you still don’t want to stick it in a woman.”

 

“Rude!” Arashi slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “I wish you wouldn’t make it sound so callous. All of you are so quick to judge me for not leading some poor girl on--tell your King the same, you know? Or make him pass a law saying I don’t have to. Ugh, I _do_ like the idea of being your beautiful wife. Or husband. Whatever you need at the time, I’m flexible.”

 

“So be my beautiful whatever and piss off the whole West to marry me,” Izumi mutters, grabbing Arashi’s hand to drag him back to the estate. “As I just pointed out, I’ve got heirs, so no one up here cares who I marry, so long as they’ve got some kind of a title. They’re all so terrified I’m marrying some girl from the Sandlands now that they’d leap at the chance to officiate it.”

 

Arashi is quiet for a moment, and kicks viciously at a horse apple on the ground. He looks out over the landscape, and asks quietly, “Do you love this place? Like, _love_ it, like you love, I don’t know, Vale, or the King? Do you care about the people?”

 

Izumi hesitates, and goes with his gut instead of thinking about it for too long. “Not as much as I love the king,” he answers softly. “I suppose if I did, I would be trying to drag him up here instead of trying to go back to the capital as fast as I can. Why?”

 

“I was just wondering...if every Lord was faking it,” Arashi admits. “Or if I was different, or if being born into it made a difference. Because my councilors keep trying to tell me about how I’ve got a duty to my people--but, you know, a lot of them are assholes. I feel a duty to my _men_ , but that’s the ones who’ve fought for me, with me, to protect the country, not to random peasants who probably threw mud at me when I was a kid.”

 

“Most lords are assholes.” Izumi gives Arashi’s hand a squeeze before adding wryly, “I’m probably as affectionate about the North as you’ll ever see a lord be about where he came from…aside from Leo. He genuinely loves the Capital and his country, you know? I have a hard time with it, because…I hate so many people in that place, and so many things about it…” He shakes his head. “Which is why I agree with you. It’s hard to love places more than people.”

 

Arashi breathes a sigh of relief, butting his head gently against Izumi’s. “Thanks. I thought I was the worst. They don’t...”

 

He looks away, vaguely annoyed. “I don’t know any of the things a Lord is supposed to know. I was happy, just being the commander of the Army, but all their stupid regulations about how you can’t be a commander if you’re not a Lord, and there weren’t any other viable Lords left...I never wanted to rule.”

 

“I’ve been raised to do this my whole life, and I’d still rather be as far from it as possible…so what’s worse, I wonder,” Izumi says with a snort of laughter, reaching up to flick a strand of Arashi’s hair out of his face. “At least between the two of us, we’re pretty ideal at court. Between my title, your money, my training, your decent reputation—guess that means we can’t ever go against one another, huh.”

 

Arashi darts a quick glance around, and finding no one, brushes a soft kiss to Izumi’s lips. “I guess, if you put it that way,” he teases. “Hmm, you’ve cleverly roped me into loyalty to the crown too, I suppose. Funny how that keeps happening to me.”

 

“Oh, come here,” Izumi grouses, stretching up onto his toes as he slings an arm around Arashi’s neck, dragging him down for a _proper_ kiss. He nips Arashi’s lower lip before pulling back with a roll of his eyes. “I told you, no one cares here if it’s two men—just if it’s some mismatched rank bullshit. But yeah, if you marry me, you’re married to the crown, too. Sorry about it.”

 

“Ah, sorry I missed the wedding,” Arashi says lightly. “What’s he going to do about that, by the way? If he doesn’t get married, I _really_ shouldn’t have to, you know. I’m going to write an appeal. Ooh, write it for me.”

 

“I would, but…” Izumi grabs Arashi’s hand again to drag him inside properly. “He’s got plans,” he mutters, leading him down the hall to his bedroom. Inside, Mika is still curled up where Arashi left him, dozing with Elia tucked up underneath his chin. “Nothing official yet, but—he wants to change the laws around so that bastards are considered perfectly legitimate heirs even in the capital, more or less. Makes it much easier for lines to continue, including his own. All he’d have to do is knock up a lady and call her his official concubine or something like that, not marry her.”

 

“Sounds like a pretty nifty way for someone who doesn’t mind having sex with either gender to bend the rules,” Arashi says dryly. “And like nothing that would help me. Here, I’ll take back, you take front.”

 

With that, he scoots into bed behind Mika, nuzzling into his back, careful not to squeeze Elia.

 

“I know, I know, but…it’s a start?” Izumi wearily says, sliding into bed and carefully wrapping his arms around Mika. Immediately, Mika shifts, butting his face into Izumi’s neck with a pleased, soft noise, and Izumi bites his cheek to keep back a smile as he drops his chin atop Mika’s head. “Eventually, I think he wants to extend that to adopted children, but…that’s touchy, with noble lines that depend on blood. It does pave the way to let him pass a law to allow official consorts and the like, though…which means two men at least being officially recognized as combining houses, that sort of thing.”

 

“It’ll let you be half snake,” Arashi murmurs, draping an arm over both of them. “But god forbid your babies call Mika ‘Mama.’ I don’t understand old rich men.”

 

“In the Sandlands, ain’t nobody care.”

 

Mika cracks open an eye. “It’s already a thing, in noble houses down there,” he murmurs. “Whores are a diff’rent thing, but lesser nobles ’n stuff…male, female, they don’t care. If it means they can squish their houses together and get more money and things, they’ll marry whoever.”

 

“Old rich men don’t seem to like the idea in the Capital, unfortunately,” Izumi says softly, reaching a bit further across Mika to curl his fingers against Arashi’s side. “If Leo does get any kind of law passed…well, I’m the test subject. My reputation’s already shit, anyway, so who better, and at any given point, I _think_ he still wants me.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Arashi mutters, waving a hand as he nuzzles into Mika’s hair. The truth is, he doesn’t want to talk about it in front of _Mika_ , who sees his desire to run away from the issue of marriage as proof that he simply isn’t trying hard enough to tell people what to do, or something. “Love, let Elia sleep in her own bed, we want to hold you tonight.”

 

Mika exhales a huffy, grumbly little sound before he gently rouses Elia with a kiss to the top of her head. “Upsy daisy,” he murmurs before switching to Sandtongue to better wake her. “You have to go sleep in your own bed like a big girl, run along now.”

 

Elia, drowsy and yawning, slithers her way out of bed eventually, and the door clicks shut behind her. Izumi scoots closer, fulfilling the prophecy of being sandwich bread as much as he’s able. “She’s going to speak Sandtongue more fluently than common tongue,” he mutters. “What the hell.”

 

“Good, it’s prettier.” Mika yawns as well, and stuffs his face into Izumi’s chest. “Eeeverything would be easier if Izumin were a girl.”

 

Izumi looks over to Arashi, eyebrows raised. “Doubt it. Arashi wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

 

“Why can’t I be the girl?” Arashi asks with a pout. “I’ll be a warrior queen, and you can both fight for my hand. Wait, no, by the laws of the West then whoever I married would be in charge...yeah, that’s a bad option, pass. Nnh, someone pet me.”

 

“You can be the girl, I’ll be in charge,” Izumi immediately says, reaching a hand up to stroke and smooth Arashi’s hair. “You already said you don’t want to deal with being a lord, so I’ll do it. You just go ride horses and kill Inglings with your sword. That’s my ideal kind of woman, anyway.”

 

“I’d be a _great_ warrior queen,” Arashi says dreamily, butting against that hand. “Imagine my battle skirts. I already ride sidesaddle sometimes just because I can. Mika, would you still love me if I were a warrior queen?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“That was fast,” Izumi says with a snort, running his nails along Arashi’s scalp.

 

“Well, yeah, because _kara_ could prolly crush my head between her thighs.”

 

“I’m _assuming_ that’s a compliment? I think? What the fuck, Mika.”

 

“He has taste,” Arashi agrees. “And I’d have frankly delightful breasts, I think. Ahh, Mika, yours would be so cute. If we were both girls, we could wear lingerie and match!!”

 

“Yours would be big,” Mika confirms, tilting his head back to peer at Arashi. “Mine, not so much. But Izumin’s would be the smallest.”

 

“What the fuck?”

 

“And Master would make all of us lingerie, because we’d be pretty. I mean, he’d make it for us now, but…” 

 

Arashi scowls at his own biceps. “It wouldn’t look right,” he grumbles. “How come mine have to be big, eh? I’m really athletic, maybe they’d be small and firm.”

 

Mika stares at him more, unblinking. “Big and squishy or nothin’ at all.”

 

“How come you get to decide?” Arashi complains, reaching around to tweak one of Mika’s nipples. “You naughty thing, you just want to play with them. Defend my honor, Izumi!”

 

“As much as I like girls with small tits…” Izumi begins, leaning away from Mika’s flail when Arashi pinches him. “You _would_ make quite an impression as a lady with large ones. Especially if they were spilling out a bit from whatever corset’s got them laced up, and—“

 

“You’re askin’ a complete rake t’defend your honor, _kara_ , give it up,” Mika giggles, sticking out his tongue. “And it makes sense. Then you’d be as popular with lords as y’are with ladies, jus’ ‘cause you’re so pretty. But you’d be jus’ as bad now, only likin’ other ladies, probably…”

 

“Probably,” Arashi says with a sigh. “I can’t really imagine favoring the fairer sex, but I suppose I am the odd one out, when it comes to that sort of thing.” He reaches around, gently thumbing over Mika’s protruding tongue. “Mm, don’t stick that out if you don’t want someone to use it, love.”

 

Mika blinks innocently, but his tongue sticks out a bit more, flicking over the tip of Arashi’s thumb. “Girls are all right, but I don’t wanna,” he says dismissively. “Men are so _much_ better, and I like the way they smell.”

 

“Women smell so much better unless it’s men like _us_ ,” Izumi distractedly says, suddenly too focused on Mika’s tongue. “You—ah. Hmm. I want you to know how distracting that is.”

 

“If you get him hard,” Arashi warns, stuffing his face in the back of Mika’s hair, “you have to make it soft again. My well’s dry. Just saying.”

 

“How many times did y’all do it?” Mika asks, amused and entirely unfazed as he grabs for Izumi’s hand, pulling it to his mouth.

 

“Some,” comes Izumi’s disinterested reply as he shoves a pair of fingers past Mika’s lips, letting them curl against his tongue. “Could’ve been more. I was _fine_ being sandwich bread or whatever you wanted, this is your fault.”

 

“He just can’t keep that tongue behind his lips,” Arashi says with a sigh, trailing a few fingers down Izumi’s spine. “Honestly, _amaka_ , be nice, this poor lad has been so empty for so long, I’m surprised he hasn’t started stealing carrots from the kitchens.”

 

“Rude,” Izumi snaps, even as he arches like a cat just from that one touch. Mika sucking on his fingers at the same time makes him groan, his head thunking down against the bed. “Fuck you both.”

 

Mika rolls his eyes, pulling off of Izumi’s fingers with a wet pop. “Ungrateful, guess I’ll go.”

 

“No no no no no, no, _please_ ,” Izumi begs, grabbing at Mika the second he shifts. “I’ll die. Probably for real this time. Mika, don’t leave.”

 

Mika flops back down obediently, rather enjoying the kind of Izumi that _begs_ for his attention. “Master says half-bloods use sex as a means of feedin’…so I guess he really did eat you alive last night, huh, _kara?_ ”

 

“That’s probably why my cock isn’t working,” Arashi agrees cheerfully. “Hopefully it’ll wake up eventually. Mm, I don’t mind egging you on or playing with you two, though...just don’t expect the smaller Captain to salute tonight.” With that, he turns his head, sucking on Izumi’s neck, one hand coming up to tweak and tease one of Mika’s nipples again.

 

Mika arches with a low, rumbling noise before he rolls, shoving Izumi onto his back and slinging a leg over his hips. “You ain't gotta do anything, _kara_ ,” he hums, automatically reaching for Izumi’s laces and unraveling them in a swift pull. “I’m _kinda_ good at this. Jus’ pass me the oil, I’ll work him over enough that you ain’t gotta worry about it for a few days.”

 

Arashi sighs happily, flopping back to the bed and passing over the oil. “I love you more than ever,” he murmurs, batting his eyelashes. “And I certainly don’t hate watching, you know? When it’s two men as beautiful as you two...honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better night. Mm, who’s going to top first?”

 

“As if he’s allowed to,” Mika snorts, and the pleased little shiver that runs through Izumi is as visible as the flush that immediately comes to his cheeks. He makes quick work of Izumi’s pants before settling between his thighs, uncorking the bottle of oil with his teeth, and pouring it over his fingers. “You think I clipped my nails for nothin’? This hand only, though,” he teases, wiggling the slick fingers of his right hand before hiking up one of Izumi’s legs over his shoulders and immediately leaning down to let two fingers sink inside of him.

 

Izumi arches with a pleased, panting gasp, arching off the bed when Mika’s fingers _immediately_ delve in deep, stroking so precisely that his entire body goes tense even when his mouth is open and slack. “Fuck,” he manages to rasp out, twisting nearly sideways from the sudden overstimulation, his toes curling until the muscles in his calves twitch. “T-that’s…not… _fair_ —ah!”

 

Mika’s tongue pokes out between his lips, eyes lidded in concentration as he wrings out that particular orgasm with ease, and milks it in spite of Izumi’s thrashing and cursing. “ _Kara_ , you can hold his arms down, that’d be good. Let’s see how many times I can get him t’go like this, yeah?”

 

“Not fair, not fair, l-let me—“

 

“Nooope, I’m doin’ it the way I wanna. Ain’t like you hate it.” Izumi’s actually _so_ easy. Mika pauses, contemplative, and then takes the chance and adds, “If you were one of my customers, you’d be my favorite ‘cause you’re sooo easy to please.” It’s the right choice, judging by how Izumi clenches down with a muffled curse as he turns his head into the bed.

 

Arashi grabs Izumi’s wrists, pinning them to the bed with a not insignificant amount of his strength. “You know how strong I am, right, love?” he asks softly, eyes glittering. Just because he hadn’t wanted to be the one sticking his cock into Izumi doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be part of the whole experience, though maybe that’s just Izumi dragging the arousal out of him with more of his magic. “You know if I want you to stay down there, there’s nothing you can do to get away, right? Even if you scream--they’ll just think you’re getting what you need, right? What you deserve?”

 

Izumi melts down into the mattress with a long, eager shudder. His fingers curl into his palms as he gives a reflexive test against Arashi’s hold, and it’s exhilarating to find it just as strong as Arashi promised. “T-thank the gods,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “If…if you get sick of holding me down, just string me up and leave me here…”

 

“He really _is_ easy,” Mika idly remarks, twisting his hand to stroke firmly over that firm little bundle of nerves that makes Izumi arch and gasp, sweat already beading visibly at his hairline when his cock gives another, desperate twitch, dripping over his stomach. “How many times you wanna come from this, Izumin?”

 

“I…I dunno, like, a dozen, I…d-don’t take that seriously, I didn’t mean that!”

 

Mika shrugs, leaning forward to pinch and pull on Izumi’s nipples with his other hand. “We’ll see what happens. _Kara_ , he’s cute when he’s like this.”

 

“Mm, isn’t he?” Arashi leans down, brushing a gentle kiss to Izumi’s cheek. Even that much sends a tingle through him that doesn’t feel entirely natural, if he’s really looking at his own motivations. But who cares, as long as it feels like this? And as long as it makes Mika look this beautiful, finally looking like he’s in his element. “We should just keep him like this. I really will tie him to the bed, and we can just stop by whenever we want to use his pretty holes. Doesn’t that sound nice, darling?”

 

Words fail Izumi at that suggestion, and Mika’s laughter when he clenches down helplessly doesn’t help. Face burning, he tries to bury it further into the sheets—easier said than done, when Mika pulling on his nipples makes him arch and jerk underneath the touch.

 

“That’s a ‘yeah’, I think,” Mika murmurs, idly working to wring another orgasm out of Izumi, which is really _quite_ easy when he’s already trembling at every single stroke and thrust of his fingers. “You can’t be done _yet_ , can you? What’d you do to him last night, _kara_ , he’s being stingy.”

 

“Nothing he didn’t beg for,” Arashi assures him. “And honestly, I was pretty sure he could have gone a few more rounds last night. Maybe you’re just not pushing his little button hard enough? His body can be so stubborn sometimes...Darling, did you drink enough water to come a full dozen times?”

 

Izumi’s chest heaves, a response on the tip of his tongue before he spills again with another, patient, long stroke of Mika’s fingers. He shudders hard, squeezing his eyes shut until tears escape from the corners of them, and then goes limp, blissfully unconscious.

 

Mika tilts his head appraisingly before he slowly pulls his hand back, wiping it off on the sheets. “Nice, that _does_ work,” he hums, beaming over at Arashi. “I read about a thing an’ I guess it works! So next time he’s too much, jus’ send him to me~ if he slurps on my life force for too long, he gets a reeeeal rush.”

 

Arashi cocks his head, curious. “Eh? Is that what’s making him all...hmm, he’s really sweaty, look at his eyes, I can’t even see the color in them anymore. They’re not usually so...slitted...are they?”

 

“He gets like that when he’s really, uh…well-fed, I think?” Mika leans forward, pushing Izumi’s sweat-soaked hair out of his face, then grabs his chin to better get a look at Izumi’s face when he’s glazed and more or less unresponsive. “Convenient, I guess, when he really needs t’play catch up. I mean, it ain’t like we’ve never had sex before, but Master was tryin’ t’find ways to make it easier on Rei, too, so this is the same thing. Deliberately lettin’ somethin’ magical feed on you instead of jus’ lettin’ them siphon out what they want at will makes them happier a lot…faster.”

 

“Huh.” Arashi looks down at Izumi, contemplative, then up at Mika. His hands don’t loosen on Izumi’s wrists, but they don’t push down as hard, stroking the soft skin there. “Is it good for you, _amaka_? I mean, if he’s feeding on you, that must be taking something out of you, right? Or is it different because you’re a wizard?”

 

“I, uh…it’s probably different, yeah, but it jus’ feels kinda nice to me,” Mika sheepishly admits. Arashi and Shu both always talk about being so _drained_ , but they don’t have weird, unpleasantly unstable magic screaming in their ear that Izumi is currently slurping on. “Like when it finally rains after weeks without, y’know? And all that pressure lets up. That kinda thing.” He flops sideways with a pleased sigh, snuggling up against Arashi’s side. “And now I ain’t gotta keep busy all night, he can jus’ eat up and I can cuddle you. Snakes are weird but good.”

 

“Mm, you’ve got to keep them warm,” Arashi agrees, tucking one arm around each of them, flopping down to the bed. “But other than that, they make great pets. Easy and cheap to feed, too. So I’ve got a snake and a kitty, hmm? What does that make me?”

 

Immediately, Izumi curls up, the motion entirely instinctive as he burrows underneath a blanket, pressed firmly against Arashi’s side. Mika watches that, vaguely fascinated, as he nuzzles into Arashi’s shoulder. “Everyone else calls me a bird…I think you’re more like a kitty cat. A cute one, you’d be like those kind with fluffy hair an’ dark points on their feet and face and tail.”

 

“Eh? I’m a kitty?” Arashi considers this, stroking both Mika and Izumi’s backs. “A cat, a bird, and a snake, hmm? I suppose I’m the one who catches you both...that sounds like fun, I suppose.” His eyelids droop a little. “Mika, make sure you don’t...let him feed too much...”

 

“Don’t y’want him all fat and content for once?” Mika murmurs, pressing a kiss to Arashi’s cheek before settling with a little yawn of his own. “Go to sleep, _kara._ You don’t gotta worry about us, he’s a happy snake and I’m glad to make him be that way.”

 

Arashi licks his lips, and drifts off to sleep without another word, snuggled and content.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Meeting with ministers and councilors always gives Leo a headache. They can never seem to give him real _answers_ , either because they don’t know them, or because they seem to have something to hide. Frustrated and annoyed with the lack of progress on the Western front, Leo rides out of the Capital, target shooting for a few hours where no one can watch the King acting like a petulant child, until he’s exhausted, aching, and sore. When he finally staggers back to his chambers, he only manages to drag himself to the baths with the knowledge that he won’t be sleeping alone, and his sleeping companion doesn’t appreciate horse sweat. Grumbling, he cleans himself, and drags himself back to bed, burying his face in Izumi’s back before promptly passing out.

 

When he wakes, he stretches leisurely, enjoying the lingering soreness he feels in his muscles, especially in his back. He rolls out of bed, stretching again by the window, watching the sun crest the distant silhouette of the Academy. “Minister Morel is acting suspicious,” he says. “He doesn’t want to investigate anyone in the Sandlands, says it’s a matter of religious discretion or something. But he’s always been conservative, even under Father, so it’s impossible to get anyone to agree with me, and even I’m not sure I’m right.”

 

His shoulders slump, and he turns back, walking to his big comfy armchair and sitting on Eichi’s lap. “Is he a traitor, or is he just an old fuddering idiot? You know him better than I do.”

 

Eichi, dressed in scarcely more than his long white dressing robe, hair askew from sleep, muffles a yawn into Leo’s hair. “You’ll appreciate when he finally dies, but whoever replaces him will be just as bad, I wager,” he says sleepily, his arms loosely draping their way about Leo’s waist. “Is traitor still so firmly defined as disagreeing with the king and gently working with people that have the same opinions? If so, then yes, that’s what he is.”

 

Leo huffs, reaching up to smooth Eichi’s hair out of his face. It’s soft to the touch, softer than it looks, like sunlight spun into silk. “I _mean_ , is he working with the slavers and trying to overthrow me. That _is_ considered treason, you know.”

 

“He works directly with men known to collaborate against you and who also have connections to the slave trade,” Eichi lightly says, obediently lowering his head to let Leo do what he wants with his hair. “But you know that. I wonder, if you pressed, if you’d find one or two lovely Southern ‘mistresses’ stashed away in his house…”

 

“That seems to be common in lots of houses, these days,” Leo mutters. He threads his fingers through the soft strands, then gives in to temptation, leaning forward and resting his cheek on Eichi’s chest. “I’m tired,” he admits. “You be king today, I’m...I don’t want people lying to my face today, saying what they think I want to hear. I can’t stop...thinking about those poor kids, the ones that got captured. Everyone down there says they’re already gone. But where? And why? Why can’t I find them?”

 

“At the risk of sounding like I don’t care, perhaps stepping back really is the answer,” Eichi cheerfully says, his fingers slowly tiptoeing down Leo’s spine. “Everyone knows you’re so very interested right now…so they’re eager to either sell you wrong information for praise, or to better duck undercover. Stepping back—or at least, creating the illusion of stepping back—could actually help. See, this is why I should be in charge of _everything._ ”

 

“And yet, you make a much better advisor than you did an Emperor,” Leo shoots back, though his skin tingles, and spine arches under Eichi’s touch. It’s always been like that, between them. “Mm, very well, I’ll see if that helps shake a few nuts out of that tree. The other thing--the Inglings, in the West. I want to push the boundaries back, and make them solid, like they were in great-grandfather’s time. You were there. What do I need to do to make it happen?”

 

“Oh, what do you know about that? I was an excellent Emperor. Nowadays, everyone’s just running around like chickens with their heads cut off, blooming all over the world, destroying faster than we can build, and still everyone praises that _idiot…_ ” Eichi sulkily grumbles, squeezing Leo to his chest. “Anyway. You need wizards out there. Strong ones. Strong ones that are actually willing to kill, at that. Rei is undoubtedly already aware of that; it isn’t just the Inglings filtering that way these days.”

 

“At least you’re smart enough to say that,” Leo mutters, though he doesn’t bother trying to pull away when this is the first time he’s felt _complete_ all day. His hands splay out on Eichi’s chest, eyes closing as he just breathes in the feeling of being held properly. “Everyone else says that the Inglings are all we have to worry about, but I remember the old stories, even if I wasn’t alive for them. The berserkers are the foot soldiers, that’s what they all say. How many wizards, do you think? And do you have any recommendations?”

 

“If you had my beautiful, perfect Wataru, you’d want for nothing,” Eichi dreamily sighs, shutting his eyes as he leans back, savoring the way Leo’s heart beats against his own. “Though that’s not _exactly_ true…if you want death to the Inglings, death to the rancid little bits and pieces filtering in from the Shadowlands…well, you’ll need to do what that fancy little lord from the West hasn’t been able to do properly for years—convince that pair to wreck havoc. Annoying and disrespectful as they are, they do have _one_ use…otherwise, you’re looking at several dozen to match that kind of strength, which, hmm…”

 

“Your precious Wataru works for me now,” Leo grumbles, fighting the urge to kick Eichi’s shins. “Or for Rei, at least. By that pair, you mean Shu and Mika, right? They’re so...delicate. How the heck could I get them far enough through enemy territory to, you know...”

 

“That _is_ a problem, isn’t it? Maybe you could ask Rei to be useful for once and drop them off in the wilderness where they belong.”

 

Leo snorts. “As if he’d ever do that to his precious love. Mm, fine, so step back from the slaver deal, and find truly destructive wizards to cut off what’s coming next.” He squirms up, winding his arms around Eichi’s neck. “Need my help with any problems on your end?”

 

“You could bring me back to life already.”

 

Eichi’s smile is a bit darker then, and his fingers curl loosely about Leo’s waist as he leans down, setting their foreheads together. “Wouldn’t that make it easier for you? If I was alive to run this country for you properly? I did it for your father, your grandfather…”

 

“Behave.” Leo’s voice is breathy, without much authority in it. He meets Eichi’s eyes calmly, without any of the intense confusion and frustration that had bothered him when Eichi was alive. Things are always easier now, gentler, sweeter between them, with none of the resentment, none of the heated anger. Instead, the heat between them always seems more...desirable, these days. “You haven’t done enough penance yet. Go on, persuade me again.”

 

“I _am_ behaving.” Another tug of Leo forward, deeper into his lap, and Eichi tilts his head, seizing his mouth in a kiss that’s deep and lingering, his teeth scoring over Leo’s lower lip before he draws back. “You’re going to go mad, you know,” he breathes, his eyes glittering in the low light. “Everyone with a severed bond eventually does.”

 

“Yeah, so they say.” Leo strokes Eichi’s face with one finger, breath coming quick at the kiss, thighs parting as he drags one of Eichi’s hands to his lap. “But honestly, with me, how could you tell the difference? And what was your excuse?”

 

“I can tell the difference,” Eichi murmurs, stilling his hand against Leo’s thigh, gripping there as he turns his head to the side to nuzzle Leo’s hair out of the way to get to his neck. His mouth latches there, sucking on the skin as his palm drags up, sliding between Leo’s legs to cup and squeeze. “I’m in your mind, after all,” he says against Leo’s neck. “But even if you’re mad, you’re my favorite toy.”

 

That one line, that familiar one that he’s heard breathed in his ear back when Eichi was alive and now even more, goes through Leo like a thunderclap of arousal. He shivers, clinging to Eichi’s neck, wiggling to the side to rub his ass against Eichi’s cock. “Th-then play with me,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering.

 

“I will, I will. Damn it, stop squirming so much when you’re not even doing it in the right _spot_ ,” Eichi complains, shrugging Leo’s hands off and firmly manhandling him around, pulling Leo’s back to his chest instead. It makes it _much_ easier for Leo’s ass to rub back against the quickly hardening line of his cock, _and_ much easier for Eichi’s mouth to stay on his neck, sucking and biting as his fingers drift upward, thumbs dragging over Leo’s nipples. “You’re so much sweeter now,” he sighs. “Is it because you miss me? That’s cute.”

 

Leo reaches down, grabbing Eichi’s thighs between his for stability, arching back into his touch. It plucks the strings of his body as if he’s a finely tuned harp, making him writhe already, just at the touch to his chest. He deliberately grinds down, letting Eichi’s cock drag on the cleft of his ass, his mouth falling open just at that. “Don’t ask that,” he whispers, trying to keep his mind on how full his body is about to feel, instead of how full his soul feels. “J-just--nnh, your hands, is this how you play with your precious toy?” Never mind that he’s on the verge of spilling against his own thigh just from Eichi playing with his chest.

 

“If you want them somewhere else, you could ask nicely.” It’s hard for Eichi to hold himself back, even as he says that. Leo’s nipples are hard underneath his fingers when he pinches and pulls, and his own breath hitches as he buries his face into Leo’s hair, inhaling deeply. “But even then, I’ll play with you however I like,” he breathes, snagging an arm tightly around Leo’s waist to haul him back as his hips rock up, grinding his cock against Leo’s ass, languid in spite of how hard he is. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, Le~o.”

 

Leo’s hips start bucking of their own accord, heat rising in him, head thrown back to rest against Eichi’s shoulder. “I’m too hot,” he whines, hands scrabbling at Eichi’s arms, clutching at his knees, his own thighs splayed wide to let Eichi’s between them. “Nn--you always just--do whatever--you want with me,” he pants, blinking tears out of his eyes. “When are you...when are you going to...make good...on your promise, huh?”

 

“Hmm? Oh…” Eichi yanks Leo’s pants down enough to let them bunch around his thighs, and reaches between them to tug his cock free with a soft, ragged exhale. “You mean the one where I keep you underneath my desk? Like the cute little pet you are? Go buy yourself a collar, and I’ll think about it. Ahh, lean forward, and hand me the oil off the table,” he sighs, nuzzling into the back of Leo’s neck, and planting a wet, sucking kiss there. “Then I’ll put it in you.”

 

Leo leans forward, helpless, obedient, grabbing the oil that he keeps in an easily accessible drawer. Izumi always uses the bottle by the bed, but Eichi--this bottle, he keeps for Eichi, in his favorite scent. He’d bought it last week, though he hadn’t been sure that it would follow him into this odd pseudo-world where Eichi is still here, still touching him. It has, and he passes it back, swallowing hard. “When you’re in me,” he breathes, eyes gleaming with unshed tears, hips still rocking involuntarily, “I feel it everywhere...especially in my nipples, I don’t...know why...what kind of collar...”

 

Eichi uncorks the bottle with his teeth, pouring the slick oil into the palm of his hand. “That’s the kind of thing a woman would say, you know,” he teases, dragging his hand up the length of his cock with a hiss of breath before he pushes Leo forward a bit more, enough to have a better angle. The head of his cock rubs against that tight, twitching hole, and it takes effort to push it inside. Eichi’s hands drag to Leo’s hips, pulling him down with a soft grunt of effort, that initial push always the hardest, always enough to make colors burst in front of his vision and leave him panting, only the first few centimeters of his cock buried inside. “Buy yourself…a collar with your name engraved in the tags,” he groans, leaning back and dragging Leo down. “Then we can have some fun. Ah, fuck, you’re so…”

 

Leo whimpers, tears leaking from his clenched eyelids. His legs slip, thighs trembling, hands scrabbling at the arms of the chair, trying desperately to accommodate the stretch that he can just never seem to get used to. A sob wrenches from his lips, and he twists, unsure if he’s trying to get away or get more, somehow managing to squirm down, getting at least half of that thick cock inside of him. “Y-you...could pull it,” he whines, letting his own hand come up, toying and twisting his own nipple, leaving his whole body sparking. “Ch-choke me with it...I never know...if you’re going to go...too far...”

 

Eichi’s breath stutters, and his hands tighten on Leo’s hips, yanking him back and down hard, until the slap of skin against skin echoes in the room and Leo’s attempts to wriggle away from him swiftly end. “That’s what you like the most, isn’t it?” he pants out, leaning forward, his heels digging into the floor as his hips arch up, grinding in slow and _deep_. Leo is painfully tight around him, and at this angle, it feels like there’s not a single inch more that’ll fit. Leaning forward, Eichi hooks his chin over Leo’s shoulder, his breath hot against Leo’s cheek. “That I’ll do what I want with you…no matter what you say. I know you can take it.”

 

“I-it’s so much!”

 

Leo’s voice breaks, and he keens, squirming around as much as he can when it feels like Eichi’s stolen his very breath, when it feels like he’ll never be able to breathe again. “I c-can--feeeeel you...all the way...”

 

He drops his hand, resting it on his belly, startled to find that he _can_ feel a slight hard bulge, from the thick head of Eichi’s cock stretching him from the inside. That knowledge makes him sob again, and his cock starts to stream a steady river of fluid, splashing over his thighs as he squirms helplessly.

 

Feeling Leo twitch and spasm and writhe on his lap makes Eichi’s last bit of control snap. He buries his face into Leo’s neck, fingers gripping hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of them as he thrusts up hard, fucking up into Leo’s _surprisingly_ pliant body. It’s always easier after Leo comes, or when he’s _still_ coming, in this case—like his body is a welcoming, hot hole just for him to fuck, and gods, if that isn’t lovely.

 

Eichi’s teeth sink into Leo’s shoulder when he shoves up roughly and stays there, muffling a deep groan as he comes, his cock pulsing inside and leaving Leo slick, dripping. One of his own hands slowly moves from Leo’s hip, sliding up to his stomach, pressing down mercilessly. “You’re so full, aren’t you?” he rumbles, his hips giving a last little rock upwards, milking his own orgasm. “Just the way you like it.”

 

Leo lets out a broken whine, shoving ineffectually at Eichi’s hand. Eichi is always so much stronger than he anticipates, and just remembering that makes his hole twitch with a stinging ache. Everything in him is far too full, and Eichi pressing on him makes it so much worse. “Too much,” he whispers, turning his face, hiding it in Eich’s chest as much as he can. “It’s just...there’s so....much...of you....in me....”

 

“Good,” Eichi sighs, sagging back and loosening his grasp on Leo to instead sling an arm about his waist, pulling him back against him. “That’s the way _I_ like it. You’re such a good boy, I like it when you squirm like that.”

 

Leo leans up suddenly, grabbing Eichi’s hair and yanking him down for a bruising kiss, sliding his tongue into Eichi’s mouth. Eichi is so hot and hard in him, but it always feels _best_ this way, and he squeezes down deliberately. “I don’t want it all to...come out,” he breathes. “So maybe you should just...leave it in.”

 

Eichi’s groan is muffled against Leo’s mouth, and he fists a hand into his hair in turn, holding him in place as he sucks on Leo’s tongue. “So much for being king, then,” he murmurs. “Just sit on my lap and look pretty instead.”

 

Leo lets out a pleased little rumble, arching slightly, nuzzling into Eichi’s hold. “Your pet,” he murmurs. “Next time...I’ll have the collar.”

 

“Good.” Eichi brushes Leo’s hair off the back of his neck, running cool fingers affectionately down it, as if he’s petting a favorite lap dog. “I want another way to make you squirm.”

 

_“Leo.”_

 

“Keep thinking about how _nice_ it would be with me ruling this kingdom for you, would you?”

 

“ _Leeeo._ ”

 

“And make sure to check in with…oh, what was his name, Lord—“

 

“Leo!”

 

Standing over him, hands on his hips, is Izumi, hair down and mussed from sleep, nightshirt mostly unbuttoned. He scowls, placing a cool hand against Leo’s forehead, trying to gauge if he has a fever. “You’ve been sleepwalking again,” he softly scolds. “And you were muttering to yourself this time, too. What is with you and this damned chair, do we need to have your mattress replaced?”

 

Reality shifts in Leo’s so abruptly that for a good half minute all he can do is stare, slack-jawed, at Izumi. Then reality sets in, and his heart feels abruptly empty, as if half of it has been ripped away--

 

_But it has, hasn’t it?_

 

He trembles, and reaches up, grabbing Izumi and dragging him close. “You’d tell me if I was insane,” he whispers, hands shaking. “Wouldn’t you?”

 

Izumi’s startled blink follows, but he allows himself to be pulled forward, bracing a hand against the arm of the chair. “I…yes, of course,” he manages, brushing back Leo’s sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead as he frowns down at him. “Leo, what’s wrong? You look…” _You look like you’ve seen a ghost._ The thought is unsettling, somehow, and Izumi hesitates, not entirely willing to say it aloud. “Are you feeling all right?”

 

The dream fades, as it always does, and Leo starts to feel more anchored, more grounded. He sucks in a deep breath, then climbs off the chair, ignoring the twinge in his ass that he tells himself is all in his mind. “I’m fine, yeah! Just...a bad dream. Hold me tight until you fall asleep, will you?”

 

Izumi says nothing for a moment, a frown on his lips all the same. “It’s morning, you idiot,” he softly points out, taking one of Leo’s hands. “But if you want to go back to bed, we can. I can go reschedule your morning. What kind of bad dream?”

 

Leo looks up into Izumi’s face, letting some of the facade crumble away, eyes searching. “Don’t...don’t you have them, too?” he asks softly. “If anyone in this world did, I thought you...”

 

Izumi hesitates again, much more visibly this time. Of course he knows what Leo means, but—“A wizard told me that talking about dreams like that gives them too much power,” he quietly says, pulling Leo closer with a little tug. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but…”

 

Leo shudders in relief, and buries his head in Izumi’s shoulder. “Thank the gods,” he whispers. “You’re not crazy. So I’m not either, right?”

 

“I…we might be a little crazy,” Izumi admits with a soft laugh, and backtracks towards the bed, dropping down onto the edge of it. He pulls Leo with him, up into his lap. “But between the two of us, we’re probably fine. You’re so sweaty,” he absently complains, using the back of his sleeve to dab at Leo’s face. “Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?”

 

“Maybe I am,” Leo admits. He almost says something else, but that gives them too much power, Izumi says, so he keeps his mouth shut, burrowing into Izumi’s chest. “It’s different for you,” he says softly. “You’re stronger.”

 

“Bullshit,” Izumi mutters, setting his chin atop Leo’s head as he cradles him against his chest, stroking a hand down his spine. “By default, I’m just more high strung, so you _expect_ me to be a complete idiot about this kind of stuff.”

 

Leo shakes his head fervently, hands fisted into Izumi’s loose shirt. “You _are_ stronger,” he insists. “You--you could go. But you’re here with me.”

 

Izumi chews on his lower lip, saying nothing for a long moment. “I don’t…think that’s a matter of strength,” he finally settles upon, his mind racing frantically as he tries to not think about _what_ they’re actually talking about. The more he thinks about it, the more it hurts, the more his heart pounds and his mind won’t _shut up_ about who is in High Harbor and not _here_ , and—“Leo. I love you. He…” Saying the name will make it worse. Even vaguely referring to him will make it worse. “He doesn’t even remember me. It…it’s not even close to the same.”

 

“I honestly don’t know what would be worse,” Leo admits on a whisper. Then he pulls away, shaking his head. “I’m going riding. Like we used to, whenever anything was...come on, I want to ride until I hurt everywhere.”

 

 _What are you dreaming about, anyway?_ Izumi aches to ask, but the troubling thought that talking about it even more might _actually_ do something to make those dreams even worse makes him clam up and shut up. “Of course.” He grabs his hair tie from the beside table, pulling the mess of it back before moving to quickly dress. “You can step away completely today, if you want. I’ll handle everything in your stead—if there’s anything you need me to particularly deal with, just tell me.”

 

“Mm, yes, I’m stepping away from this whole slavery issue,” Leo says airily, grabbing a tunic and breeches and yanking them on in record time. “I’ve decided. The slavers think all my focus is on them, so they’re laying low. I’m gonna turn my attention to the West--no one cares about the West, isn’t that strange? Except for Ara, I love him!”

 

“Are you sure it’s wise to step away when we’ve go agents in the Sandlands specifically because of the slavery issue?” Being particularly invested in that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the idea of ‘stepping back’, but…Izumi bites his tongue, and finishes lacing up his breeches. “What about the West are you focusing on instead? If it’s Arashi, help him get out of that marriage of his.”

 

Leo raises an eyebrow, slipping on a pair of boots and starting to dance from foot to foot. “I’m not _really_ stepping away from it,” he says with a sigh. “ _Obviously_. But I’m stepping away _publicly_ , so the slavers get sloppy and think they’ve got it made. And in the meantime, I can help your friend. I’m focusing on way more important things than just a marriage!”

 

“The marriage part is the important part right now,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath, but lets it go and drops down onto the edge of the bed to yank his boots on. A ride is the right idea; he can’t focus through the lingering anxiety of his own restless night. “Right, what are you focusing on, then?”

 

“I’m going to beat up a legend.” Leo beams. “Wahaha!”

 

“Be more specific, or I’ll tie you to your throne and not let you do a damned thing.”

 

That sends a shiver through Leo that he doesn’t bother to hide. “Huuuu--ahh, all right! So, what do they teach you about the West up North? And the country beyond?”

 

“Enough,” Izumi suspiciously replies, grabbing Leo by the back of his shirt to steer him towards the door instead of turning into a shivery pile on the floor. “Later, Your Majesty. You’re the one that wanted a ride. On a horse, damn it, before your mind keeps wandering. What specifically do you need me schooled in about the West?”

 

Leo grabs Izumi’s hand, veritably dragging him to the stables. He holds a finger to his lips--this stuff _is_ sensitive, after all--until they’re safely astride horses, and heading out at a brisk trot. “So,” he continues, as if they hadn’t paused, “there’s a legend that the Sharps are a gift from a very powerful wizard--you know the story of Karukachi the Wise? No? Ahh, he was the first Emperor. He was given the title because--okay, hold on, I have to go back to the beginning. So, there are five plagues of beasts that come to us from the land of Pits and Fire in the West, right? Ahhh, how much of this are you getting?”

 

Izumi’s eyes aren’t glazing out of sheer will, and out of need to focus on his obnoxious new horse as well. The pitch black mare is _not_ his first choice, but someone has to train the terrible creature, and he’s likely the only one capable. “I’m following. I’ve heard some of this before, just not in-depth.” He’s _actually_ fairly certain this is a bedtime story Mika has told his children, but it was much gorier.

 

Leo nods, satisfied with such a response. “Right, so there are five plagues. The first are the Inglings. Then, if we don’t repel them when they’re weak, the scripture says they send beasts low to the ground, with great horns and tails, capable of killing any man, right? Sound like a snog? The third are great creatures, with horns that reach up to the sky, incapable of being killed by any man--sound like a berserker, right?”

 

“Sounds about right, yeah. So what’ve we got waiting for us for the fourth and fifth? Something creepy-crawly from the Shadowlands?” Honestly, he tunes Mika’s tall-tales out so _much_. “Sounds like something you should be asking Rei about, honestly.”

 

Leo shakes his head, frowning. “No, the horrible things out of the Shadowlands are a different legend. I’m talking about the _West_ , you know! Next is the creatures that eat magic, and then the ones that consume the very earth itself. So it’s bad if we get to those, you know!” He beams. “But the thing is, a lot of people forget the legends, you know? So they just think, well, the Inglings are always there, and the snogs have been there for a while, too...you know, the berserkers only showed up around a year before you rode West?”

 

“So we’re due for another wave of weird creatures coming to destroy the world fairly soon, then,” Izumi wryly deduces, smacking his mare’s nose when she tries to whip her head around and bite the toe of his boot for fun. “Magic-eating creatures…sounds like any half-blood you’ll ever meet, but all right. What do you propose we do to stop them from showing up in the first place?”

 

“That’s where it gets _interesting_.” Leo’s eyes shine, and he grabs Izumi’s hand, steering him West, so they can look at the Sharps when they ride. “Karakuchi the Wise, he saw the creatures, so he sent the biggest wall there’s ever been, right? But the world-eaters, they were so large, they walked right over it. So he and his council built the Sharps. That’s why they look so unnatural, you know. They’d have their wizards stick a world-eater’s foot to the ground, tripping him so he’d fall and impale himself on the mountains themselves!”

 

Izumi’s eyebrows raise, predictably skeptical. “Sounds unlikely, but all right,” he says. “If your solution is ‘build more Sharps’ and give some world-eaters a few splinters in their feet because of it, I’m going to tell you to think of something else, Your Majesty.”

 

“Wahaha! That would be great!” Leo chuckles to himself, imagining such a thing. “Nah, I’ll save that for if we run out of other options. No, my point is Karakuchi’s Legacy. It’s an old legend, but it was one of my favorites when I was a kid. Wizard’s legends say that Karakuchi shattered the world, but left it stuck together with magic, deep in the West. So if the magic-eaters return, they’ll eat the magic bridge, and no more Inglings will be able to come, and the world-eaters will fall to their deaths if they show up. Buuuuuuuut, the last Emperor had a theory that in the thousand or whatever years since the last time, the Inglings have degraded it somehow, and we’ll need to make a real big boom in Ingling territory to make it all active again. A magic one. You still following?”

 

“…I’m following,” Izumi slowly replies, frowning. “Specifically the big boom part—are you suggesting we send wizards out there to rile things up? To my knowledge, there aren’t _that_ many wizards capable of such things, and…since when do you know what the last Emperor’s theories are regarding this? You’ve never mentioned it before.”

 

“Rei found a bunch of old diaries and theories of his in the Academy archives,” Leo says, totally honestly. The lie is that he hadn’t read them, hadn’t wanted to touch them, and had heard these theories from his vivid hallucinations at night, but they’re not talking about that right now. “Looks like in Great-Grandfather’s day, when the Inglings showed up again, they were very sanguine about it being the obvious first wave of an obvious boom-conclusion, you know?”

 

“Mm. I see.” Izumi tries not to look annoyed, but the expression flickers across his face nonetheless. “I wish you had mentioned that before. I could have discussed it with Arashi directly, but…all right, so you need wizards to make your boom-conclusion. That’s what I’m getting out of this. That certainly would clear up the West pretty quickly, if it works.”

 

“Yeah!” Leo beams. “And, you know, we hope that that’s all it is. Because if it turns out the Shadowlands really want to destroy us...well. It would be pretty easy, you know? All they have to do is hold that one bridge.”

 

“If the Shadowlands wanted us dead, I feel like Ritsu or Rei would’ve mentioned this by now. But,” Izumi begrudgingly admits, “it’s those two, so who even knows. Right, anyway; are you proposing we send whatever wizards are capable of this feat back out into the wilderness of the West? Because let me tell you—unattended, wizards are pretty useless, every single last one of them.”

 

Leo shrugs. “I’m not proposing anything yet. Just telling you what we’re dealing with so you’ll understand when I send someone really powerful into enemy territory to make a big boom.”

 

“…Why this all of a sudden, is what I’m curious about,” Izumi finally says, glancing down at his horse’s neck, smoothing down her mane. She tosses her head, and he swears she growls. _Why are Shadowlands horses so strange?_ “You haven’t spoken about the West in months, and suddenly, this is what you _have_ to focus on. Did someone else mention it to you?”

 

Leo throws up his hands. “Something is being destroyed in this country every twelve minutes,” he mutters. “I figured I should focus on something that has the potential to wipe us out--ask Ara, I used to talk to him about this stuff all the time, before I was King. He’s scared, too. I always said I’d get to the bottom of the Ingling infestation, when I was crowned!”

 

“I’m not complaining about your desire to take action, just the thought that someone else might be whispering ideas into your ear,” Izumi grumpily says, glancing aside. “You have to be careful about who you listen to, Your Majesty. Not everyone has your best interests at heart when it comes to risky plans like this.”

 

Leo snorts. “Fat chance of that. There’s no one alive that even cares about the West, not in the Capital. And you know that.”

 

“So you just woke up, and decided it was time to blow up something? I suppose that isn’t entirely unlike you…” Izumi sighs, lifting a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Right, well. Forgive me, but I do like to keep an eye on this sort of thing. You have a bad habit of listening to _everyone’s_ point of view, when that’s really not necessary.”

 

“A king who doesn’t listen to other people would be like Grandfather,” Leo says grimly. “And a king that listens only to other people and not to himself would be like Father. It...it isn’t easy, you know. And a lot of them would _rather_ have Father back. It’s hard to know that.”

 

“All I’m telling you to do is be careful with the advisors you keep—especially if you’re chatting them up first and _then_ coming to me with wild ideas. Aren’t I supposed to be your first line of defense? Don’t tell me you simply woke up with this mess in your head, I know you. Someone put it there in the first place, that’s why I’m saying this now.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

Leo is sulking now, and knows it. “Don’t tell me what I think. Why is it a wild idea to protect the West, huh? I just--when you wake up knowing that what you’re doing isn’t going to _work_ , you look for something that is!”

 

“It’s not a wild idea to protect the West, it’s wild to immediately come spouting old fairy tales and…” Izumi trails off, frustrated. “If I’m wrong, I’m…I’m sorry. But if I’m not, then it…bothers me, the idea of there being someone else you’re talking to. This isn’t the first time you’ve had ideas like this out of the blue, or news out of nowhere—the night you first had knowledge about the renewed slave trade, for example.”

 

“Izumi.”

 

Leo steers Tempo closer, and grabs Izumi’s thigh, very intent. “I’m the King. Sometimes I’m going to know things that you don’t. Sometimes I’m going to have informants that you can’t know about. You say people are putting ideas in my head--that’s what talking is! If someone tells you a good idea, keep it in your head!”

 

Izumi’s mare immediately whips her head around to take a bite out of Tempo, and Izumi’s foot catches her in the nose again. “I’m the captain of your guard,” he lowly reminds Leo. “If you’re talking to ‘informants’ that I don’t know about on the regular, I _do_ need to know, for your own safety. That’s _my_ job, lest you forget. I respect your judgement as a leader, but you aren’t always the best judge of character. Lending your ear to someone unsavory could be dangerous.”

 

“You might be captain of my guard, but that doesn’t mean you get to know _everything_ I do,” Leo says, with a real glare now. “You think Kuro knew everything Father did, everyone he talked to? Not everyone in the capital will talk to me if they know it’ll get back to you.”

 

“Kuro wasn’t fucking your father. And if he was, I don’t want to know about it. Everyone _should_ know it’ll get back to me, then they’ll be smarter about what they have to say and not tell you theoretical bullshit that’ll get you killed or ruin your reputation.” 

 

“Do you see a flaw in my plan?” Leo demands, fighting the urge to just ride off, leaving Izumi behind with his frustration. “Or are you just angry because I’m doing something that I _want_ to do instead of something you want me to do?”

 

“I’m not—neither of those things! Leo, all I’m trying to do is…ugh, _gods_.” Izumi scowls, tilting his head back to glare skyward. “Right, I’m jealous there’s someone else that’s got your ear, _obviously._ Happy now that I said it? I don’t know who they are, and fine, you don’t have to tell me, but that doesn’t mean I want to slice them up any less.”

 

Leo stares at Izumi for a second, riled up beyond belief, unsure if he wants to fight or scream or run or cry.

 

Then, abruptly, the sun comes out from behind the clouds in his eyes, and he laughs. “Wahahaha! You still love me! I knew it!” He beams, so utterly pleased that he looks as if he’s basking. “No one has my ear, just so you know. I’m just smart. And I make split-second decisions. And sometimes answers come to me when I’m sleeping. So don’t worry! I’m your King, and I always will be!”

 

Izumi sucks in a quick breath, stares over at Leo, and promptly reaches for the sword at his hip. “I’ll kill you myself,” he cheerfully says, smiling. “Come here.”

 

Absolutely unafraid, Leo stands in Tempo’s saddle, then gracefully hops over, landing in front of Izumi, facing him, pressed chest-to-chest with a huge grin. “I’m here. What are you going to do to your king, my beloved bastard knight?”

 

Izumi’s horse, unfortunately, is less familiar with Leo’s antics, and immediately rears. Unimpressed, Izumi leans forward, grabbing Leo around the waist to jerk him close, and waits for the creature to stop being such a _moron_. “Kill you,” he deadpans, kissing Leo full on the mouth when his mare’s hooves touch the ground again. “And you’d deserve it. You’re not smart, you’re a complete idiot.”

 

Leo laughs, totally unfazed by the insane horse’s games, slinging his arms around Izumi’s waist. “I’m a genius,” he insists. “I got you right where I want you, and you’re a noted womanizer! Mm, we should go into the West, don’t you think? Right now? Slip past all the Inglings and find the magic bridge. Or we can go home and have breakfast, I think there are berries on oatcakes. Up to you.”

 

“Catch up, genius. Nowadays, I’m not a womanizer, I’m only interested in men and I absolutely roll over for you _every_ single night.” Izumi reaches down, giving Leo’s ass a pinch. “The only reason I’m going West right now is to help rescue Arashi from the woman they’re trying to give him. You can have your oatcakes, but we’re also going to talk about what wizards you think can actually cause that much damage. Last I checked, the capable ones are off doing _other_ important missions.”

 

“Missions end,” Leo says, unconcerned. “I’ll ask Rei. Sometimes there are wizards who are only good at one thing, you know? And if they find a young couple who can do, yay! Boom!” He looks around, frowning. “What woman?”

 

“Follow along, Your Majesty,” Izumi wearily says, leaning sideways to grab Tempo’s reins and haul him close when he contemplates wandering off to munch on grass. “The woman Arashi has to marry. Apparently, she’s from the Hinterlands. It’s a dreadful political mess and he’s going to kill himself by the end of it, pretty sure.”

 

“Ahhh, you mean Honosha, the native girl?” Leo looks around, and nickers softly at Tempo, who falls immediately into line. “She’s very nice, I think they’ll get along quite well! I’ve met her, I wouldn’t have recommended the marriage if I didn’t think it could work.”

 

Izumi’s mouth twists. “You’re vastly overestimating his ability to make that kind of thing work,” he says. “At some point, give me leave to go up there and help him before his wedding. I’m not entirely sure he’ll go through with it.”

 

Leo blinks. “Aren’t we going there now?” he asks, confused. “It’s not a far ride.”

 

“You’re joking, right? Your Majesty, you wanted a morning ride, that’s what you’re getting, not a day trip to the Sharps.”

 

“Ehhh? But I was going to be helpful, this was going to be great,” Leo complains, though not very aggressively. Mostly, he’s content to be held, content to be with real, vibrant, _alive_ Izumi.

 

Even if he can’t feel every breath Izumi takes mirrored in his own soul.

 

Leo butts his head into Izumi’s chest, pushing that back out of his mind. “We can come back when you want to,” he says, more quietly. “I haven’t forgotten about him. He helped me a lot, and I feel like no money or titles or equipment for his armies can repay him.”

 

“You’re right. He’s a good man.” Izumi tightens his arm around Leo’s waist, giving him a gentle squeeze. “And I’m a shitty father for saying this, but I thought about finally claiming my other bastard to offer him a bride that he didn’t have to _deal with_ right now,” he admits, heaving a sigh. “We can tell him all day ‘oh, just get over it, you’ve only got to do it right once’—but it’s not just that to him. He’d never want a woman to be unhappy with him, and the whole concept of arranged noble marriages is so _foreign_ to him, and…”

 

Izumi trails off, shrugging restlessly. “Sorry, I know I’ve harped on it before. I…well. It’s hard not to worry about him in these situations.”

 

Leo hesitates. “I...I’m not sure how much more I can do,” he admits, “before I get accused of favoritism based on his past loyalty. If he wants to stay a noble but be freed of his obligations, I can name him to the Kingsguard, or send him to work under Captain Morisawa. But then he wouldn’t have his dominance anymore. And I can make laws, but I can’t change the customs in the West, or make his people like him.”

 

“I know. I’m not asking you to change anything when that’ll just make things worse, I’m just venting.” Izumi grumpily shifts, crushing Leo harder to his chest. “He likes having his dominance too much, or…or he would’ve signed everything up in the North to be considered my husband. So I suppose he’s digging his own grave to an extent, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for him.” He pauses, and adds with a grimace, “And for Mika, if we’re getting technical about it.”

 

At that name, Leo’s face falls dramatically. “He _hates_ me,” he says, suddenly miserable. “I tried really hard to get him to like me, I got candy, I tried to talk to him a lot? But he _hates_ me, he even told me he hates me.”

 

“What? He told you that?” Izumi blinks, leaning back to look down at Leo properly. “I mean, he’s always, uh, nervous, with authority figures. Except Rei, but that’s kind of different, I think. And he used to say that to me all the time and try to cut my feet off. So I’d take it with a grain of salt, honestly.”

 

“He said he thinks a snog would be a better king than me,” Leo says gloomily, shoulders drooping. “And that I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Oh, gods,” Izumi mutters, glancing aside. “He’s still on that kick. Well, just shrug it off. He’s a moody sort, and it takes him a bit to warm up to people. What kind of candy did you try to give him?”

 

“Everything,” Leo says, thinking of the mountain that had been delivered. “Everything I’ve ever heard of, from all the finest chocolatiers in the Capital. I told them I was having a sweets party and just sent everything to his room. I...I _really_ want him to not hate me. It’s no good for me if one of your other lovers doesn’t like me!”

 

 _He really likes cheap candy_ is on the tip of Izumi’s tongue, but deflating Leo further in that regard isn’t something he’s interested in. “Did he… _explicitly_ say that he hates you? If the candy didn’t work…well, honestly, get him a pet snog. Don’t take that seriously, just get him a plush or something. He’s obsessed with the things, it’s weird.”

 

A fire starts behind Leo’s eyes. “A pet snog,” he repeats to himself, starting to nod slowly. “A pet snog...a snog, that’s trained...as a pet....”

 

“No. Leo. I’m telling you right now, _no._ ”

 

“Izumi.” Leo looks at him very seriously, taking his face in both hands. “You can go get me a snog or I’ll go get one myself. I just want you to know that.”

 

“You are absolutely not going to go hunting a snog,” Izumi flatly says, batting Leo’s hands away. “Especially not just to make Mika like you. Get him a plushie, buy him that cheap candy kids love, but do _not_ give him a snog. Arashi will _kill me_ if I let you give him a snog.”

 

“It’s not going to be a mean one!” Leo insists, a manic gleam lighting his face. “We’re going to _train it,_ until it’s really nice and well-behaved!”

 

“What part of _Arashi will kill me_ do you not understand? All snogs are mean, have you ever met one?!”

 

“Wahahaa! When would I meet a snog? I’m the king!”

 

“Exactly, let’s keep it that way! You are absolutely not allowed to go out hunting snogs.”

 

“All right. Then you can get one for me! Get a small one--or, no, sometimes the small animals are the mean ones, get a REALLY BIG ONE!”

 

“No. Listen to your knight for five seconds, no, no, _no._ Not only am I not doing it for your sake and mine as well, but I’m not doing it for _Mika’s_ , because he will _die._ ”

 

“No. No, Izumi, he’ll _love me_.” Leo beams. “When has anyone else ever done anything so big for him, huh? Hahaha! Agree now or I’m going to get one myself!”

 

“Pretty sure you don’t want to start that pissing match with Shu and Arashi, but all right,” Izumi mutters, heaving a long sigh as he stares skyward. “If you can’t tame the damned thing within two weeks, you are _not_ putting it anywhere near him. Understand?”

 

“All right,” Leo says solemnly. “I swear I won’t let him near it until I have it trained.”

 

“And do _not_ let word of this get to Arashi. He’ll run you through. All of his men have standing orders to not let Mika anywhere _near_ snogs.”

 

“That part is easy! He’ll be busy getting married, right?” Leo nearly vibrates in the saddle, entirely excited. “Izumi. This is going to be _so good_.” Maybe this will be what he needs, a concrete and physical task to keep him from drifting so badly.

 

“Is it?” Izumi grumbles, unimpressed still with the idea of Leo chasing after snogs, but if he’s following along, at least Leo will be kept safe. “You must _really_ want him to like you.”

 

“Yep! It’s been keeping me up at night,” Leo assures him. “Seriously. I wished him good luck on the way to the South, and he just snarled at me? Grr, where does he get off? I can’t stand it if someone so important to you hates me! Especially when I think he’s so interesting and good!”

 

“…You know he’s just scared of you, right? Because you were the prince, and now you’re the king, and you—“ _Were Eichi’s bonded._ Izumi’s mouth snaps shut as he fumbles to think of anything else to put there, and he settles upon, “And because you’re loud. He’s just sensitive, think how Shu reacts to loud noises.”

 

“But Shu likes me just fine!” Leo protests, face falling again. “I even wrote him a song-- _two_ songs, one to sing and one that I was going to sing to him. No one has ever hated me after I did that, but...he just said it was ‘fine I guess’ and shut the door in my face!”

 

“The more I hear about this, the more I’m just convinced you’re coming on too strong.” The realization that Mika is _absolutely_ snippy with Leo because of…past associations, however, makes Izumi uneasy. _This isn’t going to end well, even with a snog._ “When he gets back from the Sandlands, you’re going to let me have a talk to him first, all right? Before you try to shove a snog at him. Assuming we have a snog to shove.”

 

“We _will_ have a snog. But Izumiiiii, that’s just going to make it worse, I know that now.” Leo truly, he feels, is enlightened now. “He thinks I make you work too hard. So making you be a go-between would be even worse, don’t you think?”

 

“I do work too hard, and I want to go to bed, but that’s not your fault, which is something he needs to hear from me,” Izumi patiently says, lifting a hand to flick a strand of Leo’s hair out of his face. “He’s a weirdo, Leo. Weirder than you, even. You have to handle him carefully.”

 

“Nah, I just need to talk to him on his level,” Leo decides. “And the best way is _definitely_ with a snog as a pet. He’s going to _love it_. Can you have one by the end of the weekend, do you think? I’ve got some plans this weekend dealing with some of my, ah, least favorite members of court, some of whom don’t like the North at all, so I wanted you out of the way anyway.”

 

Izumi’s jaw tightens immediately. Without naming names, even just the thought of the men involved sets his nerves on edge, and he shifts unhappily, leaning back in the saddle. “I’ll need to go to High Harbor to pick up a few things from the wizard’s research guild; I’m not catching the thing with my bare hands. But fine, I’ll be out of the way.”

 

One look at Izumi’s face tells Leo that he understands what Leo had been trying not to say. Damn. “So much for trying to be subtle,” he sighs. “I’ve gotten rid of all the ones you pointed out, but their associates and successors aren’t...exactly your biggest fans, for some reason, which just means I have to be careful. But anyway! A snog, please.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath, and bites his tongue after that. ‘Not exactly his biggest fans’—the understatement of the century, considering it’s _disgustingly_ public knowledge that he’s the reason behind the subsequent banishment, execution, or continued fleeing of a large number of influential noble families. It’s best not to choose now to get into a heated discussion about how _he_ goes out of his way to avoid all of them, and _they_ still continue to harass him whenever the opportunity presents. “I’ll see what I can do. Snogs don’t exactly come running when I call.”

 

Leo pats his hand firmly. “I have complete faith in you,” he says seriously. “Give Captain Morisawa my regards or whatever too, all right? That guy’s got a thick skull and he likes little kid books too much, but the coast has never been safer, I guess!”

 

“Be nice, my kids like those stupid books, too.” Izumi whips his horse around when the path starts to split, heading back towards the capital proper. “I’ll leave tonight. Unlike someone I know, I can’t just run out on half my duties to go shoot things.”

 

“I mean, I’m sure I’m not _supposed_ to,” Leo concedes. “The thing about being king is, everything might be your fault, but they’re sure as hell going to wait for you to come back before starting without you!”

 

“I’m shoving you off my horse now. And I’m only warning you because I don’t trust this fucking monster of an animal and I don’t want you to get kicked in the face.”

 

“Maybe it would improve my looks!”

 

Izumi snorts, and promptly makes good on his word, shoving Leo to the side and out of the saddle. His mare bolts as predicted, and Izumi reins her in irritably, at least satisfied with her not kicking out to undoubtedly kill his obnoxious king. “You’ve got a perfectly fine face, it’s your personality that makes me want to punish you. Ugh, get on your horse and ride back with me, make Tempo teach this beast how to be a proper creature.”

 

Leo flips up backward, yanking himself one-handed onto Tempo with strength that he very rarely shows off. “You can’t expect to train her until you name her,” he informs Izumi firmly. “She won’t respond otherwise. Mark my words, the first thing I do with our snog will be to name it.”

 

Izumi struggles not to stare—and by extension of that, become more than slightly turned on. He looks firmly away, sucking in a sharp breath to steady himself. “She only answers to one name, and it’s not exactly flattering.”

 

“Eh? What name? Is it Lucinda? She kinda looks like a Lucinda...”

 

“I wish. Ritsu handed me her reins and told me he called her Bitch.”

 

Leo scowls. “That guy _would_ do something like that. That’s just disrespectful! How would you react if I...never mind. Knowing you, you’d probably like it.”

 

“You know, I didn’t do anything to be called out like this, Your Majesty.”

 

“Wahaha! It’s true, isn’t it?” Leo beams over at Izumi from Tempo’s saddle, giving Izumi a wink. “You want me to flip you over tonight? You’ve got a kinda look in your eye.”

 

Izumi’s lips part, then he scowls, glowering over at Leo. “I can’t go to High Harbor, chase down snogs, _and_ be back here before you collapse face down in bed, Your Majesty. The answer is ‘yes’, but I can’t do all of those things.”

 

Leo huffs, but doesn’t look terribly upset. “All right, ride away. The spot next to me will be empty when you get back, you know!” _As long as I’m awake._

 

“Warm it with a cat, at least.” Izumi sighs, leaning sideways to ruffle Leo’s hair. “I dislike being apart from you. Who knows what trouble you get into when I’m gone.”

 

“You’ll just have to come back and find out.” Leo butts his head against Izumi’s hand, then says softly, “I want you to go and not be worried about me. So believe me when I say I’m stable and competent, okay?”

 

“I believe you.” Izumi’s expression turns wry as he rubs Leo’s head, and gently tucks a strand of his hair out of his face and behind his ear before pulling away. “That doesn’t stop me from worrying about you, though. Nothing you say can change that.”

 

Leo turns his head, managing to press a swift kiss to Izumi’s palm before he pulls it away. “I don’t want you to stop worrying completely, you know! That’s like wishing for you to be someone else. And I like you best as Izumi.”

 

“Then lucky you, that’s who I am.” Izumi glances away before he can crack a smile, and properly picks up his horse’s reins again. “Wanna know the one lovely thing about Shadowland horses?”

 

“They have nine nipples?”

 

“What? No. Gods, what’s wrong with you? They’re really fucking fast and because of that weird nipple comment, I’m not even giving you a head start.” Izumi blows him a kiss before spurring his mare forward, something she eagerly jumps to the task of. “Later, Your Majesty!”

 


	29. Chapter 29

From the Capital to High Harbor, it _should_ be a solid day to two day ride, for any sane person. Lord Izumi of the Northern Sena House, unfortunately, feels anything but sane. 

  


He rides, annoyed, breakneck, on a horse that he still isn’t particularly fond of yet. Vale’s lameness is another stressor on top of what feels like thousands, and an uppity, green mare from the Shadowlands is supposed to be fun, not an additional frustration. 

  


Instead of a day’s ride, it’s about half, and he arrives just before the sun starts to rise. He shoves the still-riled, still _insane_ mare into the stables with a note left tacked for the stablehand ( _DON’T TOUCH, it’s not worth your hands)_ , and sets off to his real destination. 

  


The window to the Captain of the High Harbor Guard’s quarters is left open, and Izumi hauls himself inside, only the sound of his boots quietly thumping on the floor echoing about the room before they’re off, and he crawls into bed, directly underneath the thin sheets next to one very, _very_ warm body. 

  


  


Captain Morisawa of High Harbor’s Powerful Burning Defense Force, also known as the City Guard to people with no imagination, turns over restlessly in his sleep. His Instinct upon feeling someone cold next to him is to curl around it, burrowing his face into the figure’s neck. He smells fresh ice and something soft and cool, the barest hint of warmth under the ice belying the cold exterior. He inhales deeply, and curls his arms around the toned back. “Need to warm up?” he asks, still drowsy. His eyelids open a slit, and despite the sleepiness in his voice, there’s a lively spark in his eyes.

  


“You feel like a warming stone.” Izumi hands--probably obnoxiously cold, but whatever--slide up underneath Chiaki’s nightshirt and along his back. “Sorry. It’s early, you can go back to sleep.” 

  


Chiaki doesn’t even shiver, just nuzzles under Izumi’s ear. “I was about to get up and go for a run,” he murmurs, nodding at the breaking dawn outside. “But I’ll skip a day if you’re here.”

  


His hands slide down, rubbing gently at Izumi’s legs. “Hard ride?”

  


“You’re too dedicated,” Izumi groans, arching forward in spite of himself, slinging a long leg over Chiaki’s hip. “Hard ride. From the capital, all night. Stupid new horse, too.” His fingers curl against the hard muscle of Chiaki’s back, his nails scraping gently. “I feel _bad_.” 

  


“That won’t last.” Chiaki’s voice is low and confident, and he rubs gently at the big muscles in Izumi’s thighs, marveling privately at their power. He turns his face, feels it rasp against Izumi’s chest, and pulls back sheepishly. “Sorry. I can shave first, if you--”

  


Izumi shivers hard, and his nails drag up through Chiaki’s hair, rougher this time. “No. It’s fine.” Admitting that he _likes it_ is easier said than done; Arashi has beaten that reaction out of him several times over. “I really needed out of the capital for a day.” A day is about all he can manage at this point, unfortunately. 

  


“Then I’m at your service.” 

  


Chiaki’s voice is softer than most of his soldiers would ever have believed. Many times, he’s heard them speculate that he was born shouting, and probably even snores loud enough to shake the rafters. In the quiet morning like this, though, it’s easy to be soft and dreamy, touching Izumi’s skin with careful, warm hands, seeing if he can ease any of that tension. “What do you need?”

  


_Death_ , is the first dark thought that Izumi comes up with, but he squashes that down with Chiaki’s distracting, warm hands, savoring the worn callouses and easy strength in each touch. Izumi shifts, undoing the fastenings of his own shirt to shrug it off before he squishes himself closer to Chiaki, nuzzling his face into his hair. “That’s a bad question,” he grumbles. “Just spoil me, I’ll tell you if I hate it.” 

  


“Mm, very well.”

  


Chiaki rolls them over, pressing Izumi gently back to the bed. Then he tugs the thin blanket he sleeps with over both of them, and disappears under it, nuzzling his way down Izumi’s chest and belly, trying not to let his stubble rasp too much against sensitive skin. His hands ease down Izumi’s riding breeches, and he mouths over one sharp hipbone, grateful for the concealing darkness. He isn’t ashamed, but there’s something intimate about doing this in the dark, instead of the exposing light.

  


Izumi exhales a long, hitching sigh, his fingers twisting up through Chiaki’s hair all the more. “You don’t...have to be careful,” he breathes, his eyes lidding as his legs spread. The occasional, rough drag of Chiaki’s stubble on his skin makes him shiver and twitch, his toes curling. “I like the way it feels.” _It reminds me that you’re a man_ , he almost says, but bites back, not quite relaxed enough to start running his mouth. 

  


Chiaki hums a little, but doesn’t offer further commentary. If Izumi really wants it a certain way, or really hates something, he’ll make it known. He’s just that kind of a man. His hands spread out on Izumi’s thighs, slowly working at the muscles, relaxing and soothing as he drags his tongue over the underside of Izumi’s cock. As usual, one taste isn’t enough, and he exhales deeply, sucking the head into his mouth, grabbing Izumi’s firm ass with both hands, drawing him in.

  


Izumi groans, reflexively clamping a hand down over his mouth before he remembers-- _this isn’t the capital, this isn’t the palace, I’m not with the king, who the fuck cares?_ That sends such a shudder of relief through him that he slumps down, dropping his hand again with a ragged little exhale, reaching down underneath the blanket to fist his fingers into Chiaki’s hair again. His cock twitches, dripping over Chiaki’s tongue with just that little stimulation. “I...ahh...I might be fast, sorry--” It doesn’t matter, but _still._  

  


The back of Chiaki’s head rubs against the thin blanket. He sucks hungrily, losing himself in the sensation. This is something he never gets to enjoy anymore, not since Kanata returned to the sea and his other form full-time, and a little groan of appreciation is all that makes its way through his nose. It’s wet and sloppy, with no one looking, and Chiaki keeps his eyes closed even in the darkness, only feeling the bitter salt flavor on his tongue, the pulse pounding through Izumi’s thin skin, the squish of Izumi’s ass in his hands. He’s panting, a little, but no one can see him, so it doesn’t matter.

  


Izumi whimpers, his hips arching up and off the bed when Chiaki’s mouth so _eagerly_ sucks him in. His fingers twist and pull on Chiaki’s hair as his hips roll up helplessly, his cock throbbing against that hot tongue with every slide of it against him. Everything’s almost _too_ hot, too overstimulating after such a long ride, after a week that has tipped him on the verge of going _insane,_ and for a moment, it’s too much and he can’t breathe. 

  


But Chiaki keeps making those _sounds_ , and that’s so good that Izumi loses himself with a low, broken noise almost immediately, spilling down Chiaki’s throat with only one more thrust of his hips. He shudders hard, twisting to bury his flushed face into the sheets. “You’re...gods, you’re so fucking hot, come up here,” he groans, giving Chiaki’s hair a tug. 

  


Chiaki crawls up, cheeks flushed, lips a bit swollen, a little smile playing on his face. He reaches for a glass of water on the nightstand, taking a gulp and swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. “You can kiss me now, if you want,” he offers, wiping at his chin.

  


“You don’t have to wash it down, asshole,” Izumi mutters, grabbing for Chiaki again and pulling him down for exactly that purpose, his tongue immediately shoving past those swollen lips. He arches up off the bed with a sigh, still-trembling thighs spreading a bit more to wrap around Chiaki and draw him back between them. “You’ve got me warmed up now, you can do whatever you want.” 

  


“I want to make you feel good.” Chiaki says it, but he feels a bit less altruistic than usual, twining his body with Izumi’s slowly-warming limbs. He braces his knees on the bed, just between Izumi’s knees, and starts slowly grinding his cock against Izumi’s hip, breath catching in his chest. “Have you healed from your long ride yet?” he asks, voice rough to obscure the real question. _Can I take you roughly without hurting you?_

  


“The second you swallowed me down, my aches and pains were healed,” Izumi breezily replies, his fingers dragging down Chiaki’s spine. He sucks in a sharp breath when his cock gives an eager, reawakening twitch, just to remind him he’s _really_ quite far from done, and he lurches up again to kiss Chiaki, sucking on his tongue. 

  


Izumi is a good kisser. Chiaki loves being kissed by someone who knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it, and he returns it passion for passion, pressing Izumi down into the mattress, his slick cock shifting to drag over Izumi’s hole a few times, his precome making it slick and sticky all at once. “There’s--ah, it’s in the dresser, I don’t use it often, hold on--”

  


_Just put it in anyway!_ Izumi wants to hiss, but he wants to feel _good_ , and that’s a poor idea for both of them, anyway. Still, he’s loathe to let Chiaki go for a long moment, kissing him hard and deep as he groans into his mouth, arching down to feel the press of Chiaki’s cock against his hole, feeling it slide sticky and hot against his skin. “Should start keeping it closer to the bed,” he grunts when he finally releases Chiaki’s mouth and flops back with a huff. “Don’t I visit enough?” 

  


Chiaki moves like lightning to the dresser, rifling through it for a moment before bringing out a tightly corked flask of oil. He wriggles the cork free with his teeth, then crawls back onto the bed and covers Izumi’s body with his own, claiming his lips in another kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. Izumi likes it sudden and fast, and Chiaki doesn’t waste time slicking up his cock, moving to kiss Izumi’s neck. 

  


If he’s being honest, he’s doing it more for himself than for Izumi. He hungers for this kind of coupling, more than he’d ever admit to himself, hungers for a partner who wants to be taken hard and fast with nothing between them, both riding the wave of pleasure as far as it will go. With that in mind, he positions himself carefully, then thrusts in, sliding in deep with a rough breath against Izumi’s ear. “So sweet inside,” he breathes, eyes closed tightly, savoring the sensation.

  


Izumi’s back arches clear off the bed, his heels digging into the mattress as his breath leaves in a rush. “Fuck,” he gasps, his nails raking red lines down Chiaki’s back as he reflexively squeezes down, a ragged groan caught in his throat at how _much_ Chiaki is when he’s suddenly and completely inside of him. His thighs shake before they clamp around Chiaki’s waist, his own cock throbbing where it’s trapped between them. It’s _satisfying_ to be full, and Izumi’s head falls back as he pants open-mouthed towards the ceiling. “Just...mnn, like that, fuck me...” 

  


Just now, Chiaki doesn’t feel like admonishing Izumi for language. It would feel silly when it makes him even harder, swelling and aching inside Izumi’s body. Words fail him for a moment, and he just groans, burying his face in Izumi’s shoulder, hands braced on the bed to give him proper leverage, rocking in and out in a pace that feels like heaven, savoring the squeeze of Izumi’s ass around him. He usually prides himself on being a gentle, careful lover, but Izumi never seems to care whether he uses sweet words or not, whether he takes his time or not. Izumi is by far the most honest lover he’s ever had, taking what he wants and disappearing afterward, urging Chiaki to do the same. “You feel,” he starts, and loses his train of thought, hips snapping in deep as he groans again at the tight friction, made easy by the oil.

  


Izumi’s breath hiccups. “Yeah,” he says, agreeing mindlessly to whatever Chiaki was going to say. A compliment, definitely. His nails rake down, grabbing for Chiaki’s ass and squeezing when he thrusts in deep, and he wriggles down in kind, a dark flush rising to his cheeks when Chiaki’s cock rubs and presses deep inside at the _perfect_ angle. A trickle of sweat drips down from his hairline, and Izumi sucks in a hard breath as he melts into the bed, letting himself be shoved and pulled and held down. “Fuck, you’re so...” 

  


“You, too,” Chaiki moans. He drives in deep again and again, hips moving on their own, blindly seeking after that pleasure that always feels elusive until he finds it. It’s always easy to find with Izumi. Everything is always easy with Izumi. 

  


His hands move as if on their own, grabbing for Izumi’s and pinning them down to the bed, mouth finding Izumi’s neck as he pumps in hard. He presses kiss after sucking kiss to that pale flesh, watching wine-colored spots bloom in his wake. His teeth rasp against Izumi’s ear, and he breathes, “Take it,” not quite knowing what he wants it to mean.

  


Izumi swallows audibly, the shudder that rakes through him making him tremble and tighten down, even as he goes almost obediently limp and pliant. “W-whatever you want,” he rasps, his hands uselessly curling into fists when he’s pinned, held down, _fucked_ \--something that’s exactly out of his _simplest_ fantasies, but so satisfying that just hearing those words whispered in his ear makes his cock throb and twitch, spilling again between them, sticky and hot. He whimpers, his head falling back again, his toes curling as his legs slide further up Chiaki’s sides, trying to hold onto him with just his thighs. 

  


The permission makes Chiaki shiver, wriggling in Izumi’s grasp as he rocks in harder, feeling his cock start to spill with each shove. It seems to go on forever, slowly building to a white-hot crescendo that wrings him out, makes colors burst behind his eyes, makes him slam in so deep that there’s no space at all between them and _hold_. “Please,” he pants, voice ragged, not knowing what he’s asking for now either, only knowing that he wants to stay like this as long as possible.

  


Izumi’s chest heaves, the tremors that still rake through him and down to his toes making his legs start to cramp, but he doesn’t let up, not when he can still cling to Chiaki with his legs and feel that incredible heat and closeness between them. “G-good, isn’t it?” he breathes, his lashes fluttering when he feels the slick mess inside of him mixing with that oil, and Izumi squirms, just enough to force his body to clench down. It’s uncomfortable and makes him ache, and that’s _very_ satisfying. “Ahhh...don’t pull out, stay like this, I’m so full...” 

  


Chiaki nods, tucking his face into Izumi’s neck, slowly drawing in breath as his chest presses against Izumi’s. “If you didn’t finish,” he mumbles, after he’s taken enough air in to feel human again and not like a sack of hormones, “you can have me, if you give me a moment. Unless you need a snack first?”

  


“Sounds like a lot of work right now,” Izumi grouses, flopping a freed arm over Chiaki’s sweaty back. His other hand wriggles in between them and comes out sticky, which Izumi quickly takes care of with a flick of his tongue to his own fingers. “I’m good. Eating also sounds like work, just lie here with me.” 

  


Chiaki smiles, and snuggles down, still buried deep inside Izumi. “Let me know when you want it out,” he offers. “I know it’s annoying that it doesn’t get soft very quickly.” After that, he just slumps down, letting his eyes drift closed. Izumi is a good nap partner, and if he’s going to take the day off of running, he might as well enjoy the break.

  


“That part’s fine, you’re--ugh, don’t fall asleep, you’re the worst,” Izumi grouses, but his complaints aren’t exactly _insistent_ , and he settles down, sated and content enough for now to relax and sleep, at least for a few hours. 

  


When he wakes up again--from one of the longer sleeps he’s had, how pleasant--Chiaki is still on him, _in him_ , and that’s nice, but distracting. 

  


Izumi shifts, shoves, and rolls Chiaki onto his back, neatly straddling him. He leans down, nipping lightly at the lobe of his ear. “It’s the afternoon, Captain,” he rumbles, his voice low and rough from disuse. “I have places to be, but you’re still in me...” 

  


Chiaki scratches at his chin, blinking sleepily up at Izumi, a little smile on his lips. “No one has banged down my door yet,” he points out, hands moving up to Izumi’s waist. “I value honesty and urgency in my teammates. If something were important, someone would knock. Are your places...urgent?” He gives an experimental twitch of his hips, rolling them slowly against Izumi’s soft skin.

  


_Yes_ , a little, obnoxious voice in the back of his head says, but Izumi breathes in deep, and forcibly ignores it. It’s easier, when Chiaki’s hands slide against his skin and Chiaki moves inside of him again. “Not...yet,” he settles upon, pulling free the already thoroughly loose and useless tie in his hair, letting it spill forward over his shoulders when he leans down again to steal a slow, wet kiss. He moves, a languid, slow roll of his hips. “But you don’t get me all day...so make use of me now, or else.” 

  


Chaki nods, sucking on Izumi’s tongue, glad to feel the heat burning in Izumi again after the cold has been driven back. Izumi needs this more than he likes to admit-- _And so do I_ , he admits to himself in the privacy of his mind. “You don’t need to threaten me,” he murmurs, thumbs tracing circles on Izumi’s hips as he flexes up. “I love being with you like this.”

  


“N-not a threat, just...ahh...you...” Izumi’s hands briefly tremble as he searches for more balance, sliding up from Chiaki’s chest to brace on either side of his head, his fingers digging into the mattress. “I don’t know when I can be back again,” he breathlessly admits, color quickly returning to his face when he grinds himself down, slow and easy until he feels Chiaki’s cock start to harden further inside of him. The muscles in his thighs twitch and bunch, overly tense when he’s so eager for more. “So...I want...” 

  


Chiaki reaches up, cupping Izumi’s face in one hand. “You don’t owe me anything,” he says softly. “You never do. So take what you want.”

  


Izumi licks his lips, staring back down at him for a moment before he groans, sagging down onto trembling arms. “Quit it, I _told_ you _,_ don’t say shit like that when I’m hard,” he groans, shoving his face into Chiaki’s neck and nuzzling up into it. Chiaki’s stubble still burns delightfully, and he hopes his skin is coming away red because of it. “All my wires get crossed up and I’ll start fucking crying or something, just pet me and tell me I’m pretty instead.” 

  


Chiaki laughs, a rich and hearty sound that reverberates through his chest as he runs his hands up Izumi’s waist, down to his thighs, then up again to his hips, holding and stroking before he grips a little harder, just enough to keep Izumi in place. He rocks his hips up over and over, filling Izumi gently with every slow grind. “I’m grateful you’re here,” he says honestly. “And I love the way you move with me. And I think you’re a good person.”

  


“Fuck _you_ , tell me I’m pretty or I’m climbing off you,” Izumi whimpers, though there’s absolutely _no_ real threat behind those words, especially when he’s breathless and grabbing instead for Chiaki’s shoulders as he bends forward, panting and lending himself to the rock of Chiaki’s hips and the pull of his hands. Chiaki’s cock is so hard and so _perfectly_ thick, making him tremble and squeeze down with every easy, rolling grind. His face buries into the side of Chiaki’s neck, his mouth attacking his throat, sucking and gently biting when Chiaki slides up so perfectly into him that it makes his breath hitch. 

 

“I think you’re very pretty,” Chiaki says, trying to sound serious, but he has to stop, his voice hitching into a groan when Izumi slides down so far there’s nothing between them, not even air. “Maybe--maybe that’s just, just because I like you so much, but--ah, you’re _very_ good at this...”

 

That’s good enough that Izumi is satisfied, but he still bites again, a long, sucking one to the arc of Chiaki’s throat as he just grinds down for a moment, savoring how full he is with a muffled little groan. His cock aches between his legs, dripping onto Chiaki’s stomach as he rocks up onto his knees only to slide completely down again, his thighs trembling with the pleasant strain of having to _work_ for what he wants. “You,” he pants out, grabbing for one of Chiaki’s hands to pull it up to his nipples, “feel _so_ nice.”

 

Chiaki moves his other hand up too, dutifully following orders, rubbing and tugging gently at first, then harder when it becomes apparent that’s what Izumi wants. Like this, he’s powerful. Like this, he never has to worry that everything will go wrong, that he’ll fail and let someone down, because Izumi _always_ likes this, and likes to make him feel good, too. The lack of pressure involved is more of an aphrodisiac than any other part of their meeting, and Chiaki’s eyes go dark with desire, mouth opening on words he’d never usually say. “I don’t think anyone could ride me like you,” he whispers, flicking a thumbnail over one nipple. “Like you were born to it, you’re so _tight_ \--”

 

Getting Chiaki to the point of saying _anything_ remotely filthy is always an accomplishment. Izumi’s mouth falls open, his back arching to press himself further into Chiaki’s tugging, teasing fingers as he lifts a hand to rake his hair back from his face, the aching grind of his hips refusing to let up when it feels _so_ good. “Y-yeah, I’m made for it,” he breathes, his eyes lidded and dark as he deliberately rocks down with the rise of Chiaki’s hips, letting his cock sink in as deep as it can, as hard as it can. “Made for you—it fits in me so well, I need it…”

 

“I’m not sure,” Chiaki breathes, entranced by Izumi’s movements. It’s more like a dance performance, like art to be marveled at, than it is for plain men like him to enjoy. Yet he’s here, and Izumi is here, and he somehow gets to watch this, something he takes full advantage of, eyes drinking in each tensing, undulating muscle. “N-not sure it fits, it’s...it looks like it’s, maybe, too much for you...”

 

“It f-fits, but—it’s…it’s a lot, like this…” Izumi’s breath hitches up in his chest, and he grabs for one of Chiaki’s hands again, guiding it down, around, to where they’re connected when he sinks down again, biting his lip. “You can feel how…how tight it is there,” he pants out, sagging forward a bit again, a few of the longer strands of his hair sticking to Chiaki’s chest. “Even after you being in me all night, it’s still…”

 

“Still a lot,” Chiaki finishes for him, eyes wide and intent, serious and focused despite how much his body craves _more_. He lets one hand trace the edge of Izumi’s hole for a moment, then brings it up to grab Izumi’s hair, holding him down, that intense focus of his all brought to bear on Izumi. Hunger and pleasure build together, melding in the heat inside him, until all he can do is slam up harder, hands easily holding Izumi in place. “Now you’re--properly warmed up,” he grunts, hearing the slap of their bodies together, perversely liking it.

 

Izumi bites down on a curse, the burn on his scalp when his hair is pulled mixed with how hard Chiaki grabs at him, how easily Chiaki holds him down and uses him, makes his cock twitch hard, threatening right at the edge. Even his nipples ache from how hard they are, and his lower lip trembles as he lends himself to Chiaki’s pulling, bending to the yank on his hair, squirming to better set his knees into the bed when Chiaki ruts up into him. “Come in me again,” he helplessly begs. “I w-want…want to feel it all day, nothing else is gonna keep me warm, so please—“

 

“Y-your--”

 

 _Your wish is my command,_ Chiaki wants to say, but there’s no getting the words out when Izumi is writhing on him like that, saying things like that, and he loses himself in the sensation, bucking up to spend himself deep inside Izumi’s body. He grabs Izumi’s hips, holding him down, eyes bright as he rasps, “It’s still...in there, isn’t it? From last night? N-now there’s--ahhh, there’s more, all for you--”

 

Izumi bites into his lower lip, his brow knitted as he tries, desperately, to hold back, to better enjoy how it feels when Chiaki comes in him, grabbing at him roughly with those strong, warm hands of his. He manages to feel those first few hot, slick pulses of Chiaki’s cock before he sobs, clamping a hand over his own mouth to keep back the sound when he spills, dripping over Chiaki’s stomach. “F-fuck, there’s a lot,” he manages to pant out, tears pricking into the corners of his eyes at the vague sting, the slickness that threatens to drip out of him when he doesn’t clench down around the thick cock still stuffed up inside of him as far as it’ll go. “You’re…so…so good, you always make it feel good…”

 

He slumps forward, face stuffed into the side of Chiaki’s neck. “P-pet me.”

 

One hand comes up, still strong despite how wrung out Chiaki feels, petting over Izumi’s sweat-damp hair. “There, there. You did so well, you know...ahhh, just let me hold and touch you for a while, do you need me to pull out?”

 

“No. Not yet.” There’s something _incredibly_ soothing about all of this—no obligations to anything except feeling good, no expectations except to be petted—and Izumi slowly settles down with a shuddering breath, still wincing a bit at how full he feels, but enjoying it all the same as he buries his face down into Chiaki’s neck. “Really needed this,” he breathes. “You’re _good_ , you know that?”

 

“I think you’re good, too.” Chiaki smiles, sated and content, petting Izumi’s hair and shoulders, rubbing gently at the tension there. “And very strong, inside and out. It’s...” He sighs out a breath, letting his eyes close even as his hands keep moving. “It’s a relief for me, when you come through the window.”

 

Izumi settles— _really_ settles with those words. Even knowing that this is something very mutual, hearing that from time to time settles it. _Take care of him,_ Kanata had said (threatened), and with this being one of the few ways Izumi knows how to do just that…

 

“R-right, that’s enough,” Izumi exhales, slowly heaving himself off of Chiaki and rolling to the side instead, stretching out with a sated groan. “These last few weeks have been hell,” he admits, throwing an arm over Chiaki’s waist. “I’d like to be down here more, but as it is, I barely can leave at all.”

 

Chiaki rubs gently at Izumi’s neck, content to flop onto his back. “You’re doing good work for the king. We’re all doing our best in these uncertain times. If you need motivation, there’s a book series I always recommend.” The dog-eared tomes are thin, as most children’s books are, with colorful pictures on many pages, taking up most of the shelf on his wall.

 

“I don’t need motivation, I need a nap,” Izumi grouses, his eyes lidding at the continued petting. “Especially because of the king. And your signature, I have to borrow something.”

 

“Something of mine?” Chiaki brightens. “You want to borrow my books? Obviously you have to start with the first one, but you’ll want to read them all the way through without stopping, I often hold vigils where I don’t sleep all night to finish re-reading them.”

 

“Maybe later,” Izumi patiently dismisses, giving Chiaki’s hip a little poke. “I need to borrow some of the magical weaponry you’ve been funding down here with the wizard’s research guild—specifically, a net. I wouldn’t bother you about it, but one of your wizards is being stingy.”

 

“Ah, the special ultra magical nets that they use to subdue the most horrific sea monsters,” Chiaki muses to himself, nodding. “You have a sea monster on the brain? They’ve been killing a lot of people lately, but with our new weapons, we’re protecting even more!”

 

“Not a sea monster, but…close enough,” Izumi says with a sort of resigned weariness to his voice. “I’ll return it within the week, hopefully. If _this_ doesn’t work, nothing will.”

 

“As long as it’s to keep people safe.” Chiaki beams. “You’re strong and talented enough to use it. I’ll sign!”

 

“If you keep complimenting me like that, I’m never getting out of your bed,” Izumi threatens, sliding up against Chiaki and kissing him firmly. “I’ll find the paper in my bag in a minute. Pet me for just a bit longer.”

 

Chiaki leans into the kiss, hoping he doesn’t look too lonely when he does, reaching up to squeeze Izumi’s hand before relaxing. “You won’t use it to steal my wizard, will you?” he asks, entirely serious. “I’m sure it must be tempting, he’s very good.”

 

 _It’s more than tempting_ , Izumi wants to say, but bites his tongue while also omitting how an errant joke about doing as much had resulted in him needing that signature in the first place. Makoto is entirely uninterested in humoring him and his advances, for whatever reason, and Makoto is absolutely not the reason he started visiting High Harbor before that promise to Kanata, not at _all._ “Mm, no, I’m not going to steal him,” he says, his eyes lidding. “Even though he’s cute. There are laws against that, after all.”

 

“There are! I’m glad you care about the law,” Chiaki says earnestly, pressing a kiss to Izumi’s temple, stroking up his arm, then down the smooth muscle of his back. “If there were something I could offer you to come work for the Powerful Burning Defense--I mean, the City Guard,” he corrects himself cheerfully, “you can always name it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said, but I like being in charge, and you’re already a hell of a captain in your own right,” Izumi grumbles, shifting restlessly underneath Chiaki’s touch now. “So that’s not happening. Keep your Powerful Burning Defense Force and leave me to the capital and our king. Quit petting me now, or I’ll never get up.”

 

Izumi can say he’s like a snake all he wants, but Chiaki has never met anyone more contrary like a cat in his life. He flops down, then scrubs his hands up through his hair, getting up and starting to stretch. “You need a fresh horse for the ride back? Or a dip in the ocean to revitalize your muscles?”

 

“No, I feel revitalized enough.” Izumi shifts with a slow, aching stretch that makes him wince, but he slowly slithers out of the bed, collecting his _very_ discarded clothes along the way. “And my horse is insane and will never be tired. Mm, here.” He finds the folded up notice within the inside pocket of his coat and tosses it onto the bed. “Sign that, would you? Yuukun was so pushy about it…”

 

Chiaki inks a quill, then signs immediately with a swift and surprisingly neat flourish, handing the paper back. “One week, you said. I’ll hold you to that, because that’s when my new monster-fighting recruits will be ready! They’re nearly done with Book 1 right now, as well as spear combat.”

 

“Good for them. Yeah, it’ll be back within the week, or so help me,” Izumi mutters, folding the paper back up and tucking it back into his coat after shrugging it back onto his shoulders. He pulls free a leather tie and rakes his hair back from his face, tying it back. “This is an odd question, but do you have any experience with, uh, snogs?”

 

“Not personally.” Chiaki grabs his own foot, stretching out his thighs with a sigh. “Ah, I think Captain Arashi of the West has done quite a bit of combat with them, you may want to ask him about any questions you have.”

 

“Unfortunately, this is one I can’t ask him about,” Izumi grumpily mutters, yanking his breeches back up. “For many reasons, but not least of all because he’s off getting _married._ ”

 

“Ah! I’ll send a gift!” Chiaki turns to look at his bookshelf, frowning. “Has he already read ‘Masked Heroes Save the Country,’ do you think?”

 

“I’ll find out before you send anything, so hold off,” Izumi says with a roll of his eyes. “But you’d be better off sending wine. He’s an idiot, don’t forget.”

 

“Liking wine sounds very refined to me.” Chiaki jots down a note to himself ( _wine arashi wedding_ ) and stuffs it into the pocket of his coat, then starts to shrug on his clothes. “I prefer plain cold water, or sometimes juice. Wine gives me headaches.”

 

“Maybe you’ve just had shitty wine. Mm, come here.”

 

Izumi grabs Chiaki by the front of his unlaced shirt, dragging him down for a slow, wet kiss, his other hand’s fingers dragging along the rough stubble along his chin. “Thanks for lending me your bed,” he murmurs. “It’d be nice to stay longer.”

 

Chiaki’s breath stutters for a second, and he leans into the kiss, blushing when he finally pulls away. “You’re welcome for as long as you like,” he says softly, tucking a flyaway strand behind one of Izumi’s ears. “My window’s always open for you. Whenever.”

 

“You’re so _relaxing_ ,” Izumi mutters, the words sounding almost accusing rather than like a compliment. It’s certainly not a phrase he’s ever heard from anyone else to describe Chiaki, but they probably don’t live the kind of lives either of them do. He rocks back, releasing Chiaki with a last pat to his cheek. “Don’t worry, I always keep you in mind.” And then, after a second’s hesitation, he adds, “If you ever really need me to stay, you better come out and say it.”

 

Immediately, Chiaki’s smile shines brighter than the sun, and he laughs, hands braced on his hips. It’s the kind of laugh he gives his other friends, the _don’t-ever-worry-about-me laugh_ that’s usually reassuringly effective. “I have the sun and the sea and good friends.”

 

But Izumi is being open and honest with him, and Chiaki’s bravado dies after a moment, fading to something more raw, more honest. “I’ll let you know,” he adds, looking away. Being this open is disconcerting, but Izumi makes it...not terrifying.

 

“Yeah. Do that. Your wife’ll kill me if you don’t.” It’s a joke, but it’s also _very_ true, Izumi is pretty sure. Kanata had been very serious about Chiaki’s well-being some eight months ago when this all started. He tilts his head, sparing a last glance at Chiaki’s face before Izumi steps back, grabbing up his abandoned bag. “Thanks again,” he lightly says, flinging open Chiaki’s window and hauling himself out of it. “I have to go bother your wizards now, sorry!”

 

Chiaki waves merrily the whole way, watching Izumi go. “Be safe!” he calls, watching Izumi hit the ground and make for the stables, and a moment later, a cloud of dust rising on the horizon. His smile fades, and he whispers, “Come back soon,” into the cool evening air.


	30. Chapter 30

The Hinterlands are exceptionally chilly, and rainy, and therefore, _wet_. Inside of the second son, third child of the Hakaze family’s so-called ’Go Away’ house, however, it’s delightfully warm, well-lit with oil-burning lamps and an array of candles, with a fire burning hot as well.

 

Rei relishes this, and lounges mostly naked on the floor in front of said fire, buried underneath a stack of furs.

 

It’s nothing shy of disconcerting to feel so _little_ on the other side of his bond right now. Shu is silent, uncomfortably so, but it’s a necessary side effect if they’re both going to be functional while he’s in the Sandlands tackling one issue, and Rei is…here, there, wherever, tackling every other one. It makes his other senses that much more painfully acute, and it’s why he can hear the conversation happening at the front of the Go-Away-house’s front door, clear across the manor.

 

 _“If there’s a noble that can help us_ here _, then I need to speak with them!”_

 

That’s someone familiar—very familiar—and Rei grimaces, pushing himself up slowly. “Kao~ru, love,” he calls sleepily, entirely unaware of what time of day it even is. “Can you tell me if the cute one at the front door has red hair? It feels like they might…”

 

Kaoru stretches, rolling over to the window overlooking the front door, blinking blearily at the mirror angled to show him the doorway. “Red hair on the little one,” he confirms with a yawn. “His friend is cuter, though. I mean, he tries to kill me every time I see him, but he’s cute anyway.”

 

“Mmm? He has friends? How unusual…” Rei yawns behind one hand, staring over at Kaoru with lidded eyes. “If the little redhead starts blowing things up, this is your warning.”

 

“Don’t blow up my go away house,” Kaoru groans, flopping over to bury his face in the pillow. “Be nice, I’m still leaky and sore. I didn’t know you were gonna show up able to party after a decade...”

 

“I’m being nice, I’m always nice,” Rei hums, flopping back down and wriggling closer, long fingers gently combing Kaoru’s hair out of his face. “It’s not me that would be mean to you…just another fluttery little wizard, you see.”

 

“Of course he’s mean,” Kaoru says, rubbing up against Rei’s long-fingered hands, eyes closing in lingering bliss. “He’s hanging out with that guy, the one that always tries to skewer me and call me a disgrace. Mm, invite them in, we can have a foursome.”

 

Rei has to physically pause, recollecting himself after his mind immediately decides _yes, that sounds wonderful._ His fingers tiptoe slowly down Kaoru’s spine, tracing down the lovely arch of it. “I think not. One of them is…well, I’m certain he’s taken. Besides, you look awfully nibbled upon. Is that really any way for you to greet guests?”

 

“Whose fault is that?” Kaoru asks, squirming and letting his back arch. “I changed my mind, make them go away, I want to enjoy you for the rest of the day, and night again.”

 

“Mm…I’d love to make them go away, but that sounds like having to get up and leave you here all alone…” Rei scoots closer, nuzzling aside Kaoru’s hair to mouth a kiss to the back of his neck, sucking slowly on the skin. “And that just—“

 

The door to Kaoru’s bedroom slams open, and Natsume stands in the doorframe, hands on his hips. He’s dressed in his usual travel garb, ruffled skirt hiked up on one side to unabashedly reveal an arsenal of…well, it might be daggers or it might be magical bombs, even Rei isn’t entirely sure, but it’s all strapped to his thigh. Worse, behind him must be the ‘friend’ Kaoru has spoken of, sword in hand. “They _said_ I’d find the lord of the manor here,” Natsume imperiously greets. “So, where—wait. R…Rei? Lord Rei?”

 

“Ah, hello,” Rei cheerfully greets, fluttering a hand as he doesn’t even other trying to rise. “Natsume, you’re as lovely as always.”

 

“Aha! The disgrace of the Hinterlands! I should have known we’d find you _abed_ at this hour,” Souma says, disgust in every syllable. He gestures at Kaoru, looking at Natsume as if trying to explain just how horrible such a creature must be with one movement.

 

“Ahhh, so mean, but so cute.” Kaoru finally rolls off the bed, grabbing a dressing gown and wrapping it around himself. “Oh. There’s a lady. Rei, why’d you say you had a friend and not say it was a _lady_? Hello, darling,” he murmurs, giving Natsume a deep bow, which incidentally coincides with him ducking under Souma’s blade strike.

 

Natsume scowls, unimpressed, but he does hold up a hand. “Souma, stop that. If you kill him, I won’t be able to talk to him.”

 

“And what would you like with my cute little Kaoru?” Rei sighs, rolling onto his side and vaguely remembering to tug up one of the furs further up his hips. He props his head in one hand, drumming his fingers against his cheek. “I don’t think I’ve met your sword-friend.”

 

Souma immediately sheathes his sword, giving Rei a low bow. “Ah! Hello, you seem quite important, and Natsume says you are a wizard.” He bows again, back ramrod straight, forehead nearly touching the floor. “I am Souma, of the Kanzaki house, neighbor of this disgrace. Please do not think that his conduct reflects upon all of us in the Hinterlands.”

 

“It’s true,” Kaoru says cheerfully, kissing Natsume’s hand, then winking. “I’m nothing like the rest of the stuck-up nobles around here. I’d love to show you how different I am. I don’t play by their rules.”

 

Natsume’s head cocks, his eyes narrowing. “If that’s the case, then you might be very _useful_ ,” he intently says, his gaze locked on Kaoru as he takes a step closer. “What does your household know of the mining trade? And all of the _slaves_ involved?”

 

“Ahh, we’re already on that, I see,” Rei sighs to himself, rolling back over onto his stomach. “Nice to meet you, Souma of the Kanzaki house, you’re very cute.”

 

Souma’s face flushes, and he bows again to hide it. “Ah, you seem like a great lord, Milord! What shall I call you? If there is any use to which you may put my sword--for example, may I execute this miscreant on your behalf?”

 

Kaoru ignores him completely, eyes all on Natsume. “My household, plenty,” he admits freely. “I’m out of favor right now because I don’t want any part of it.”

 

“That’s not why you’re in disgrace!” Souma says, face hot with anger and outrage. “You wretch--has your family been making use of _my family’s sacred lands_ to do human trafficking?”

 

“Dunno, probably,” Kaoru says with a shrug. “Pretty lady, I’ll take you to see it, if you like. I can get you in anywhere.”

 

Natsume’s eyes gleam, pleased with this knowledge. “Yes, good, that’s exactly what I want from you. Lord Rei, of course _you_ must know this as well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

 

Rei pauses, glancing up at the ceiling in a vague prayer for strength. How to explain to Natsume the intricacies of bonds and sex magic and the like? Now probably isn’t the time, with his blushing Hinderlandish friend. “Something like that…ah, Souma, you can call me Rei or Lord Rei as well. Don’t slay this great beast here, he’s still useful to me.”

 

“Yes, Milord Rei,” Souma says instantly, so pleased to receive clear orders that he immediately falls to his knees in a kneel.

 

Kaoru rolls his eyes, stepping forward to brush a speck of mud from Natsume’s cheek. “Ah, pretty one, you’ve been out in the wilds, haven’t you? There’s no reason for that, even this little house of mine has lovely baths that you’ll want to try out...let me take you, it’ll be fun.”

 

Rei’s eyebrows raise at Souma, vague amusement coloring his expression, but he can’t help but look to Natsume and Kaoru when a little spark of _something_ not quite right flares in the corner of his vision.

 

It’s a warning, a stern one at that, and even Natsume seems unaware of it.

 

Rei opens his mouth to say something about it, but Natsume huffs, smacking Kaoru’s hand away as primly as any noble lady would. “You think very highly of yourself, _don’t_ you?” he snaps, folding his arms across his chest. “If I’m to have a bath, I don’t need you to attend to me during.”

 

“Be careful with that one, love,” Rei weakly warns Kaoru instead, all sorts of delighted by Natsume’s charms as well. He’s _so_ adorable when he’s uppity, after all. “Natsume has quite the bite.”

 

Kaoru laughs. “After spending time with you, you think I’m scared of being bitten? Now, let me just show you--you don’t have to be afraid, I’m a gentleman--”

 

He reaches out and touches Natsume’s chin, only to be abruptly thrown back against the wall by a sudden burst of magic force, followed by an ethereal, disembodied laugh. “Hands off, friend,” a merry voice rings through the room. “This one is under just a bit of protection.”

 

Then the voice and presence vanish with the tinkling of bells, leaving Kaoru blinking. “Um. Or I could just. Show you the mines?”

 

“I think I offered a fair warning,” Rei wryly sighs, shaking his head. “Are you quite all right?”

 

Natsume, for his part, blinks rapidly, looking around to try and find the source of such a spell before realizing it’s very much clinging to _him_. His expression shifts from unsure to a mix confused and delighted, and his cheeks flush a faint pink. “Y-yes, just—just show me the mines, I need to see them for _myself!_ ”

 

“Well, if you don’t need your other friend, he can take a nice rest right here,” Rei hums, patting to the floor next to himself. “And protect me instead. Report back to me with what you find, Natsume—and mind those hands of yours, hmm, Kaoru?”

 

“This is suddenly going to be really dumb,” Kaoru mutters, grabbing a pair of breeches before heading out the door, following at Natsume’s heels.

 

Souma, for his part, bows to Rei again. “Thank you for ridding us of that nuisance, Milord Rei. Please, be at ease, I will protect you from whatever ills may be lurking in the home of so dishonorable a man. And whatever he’s told you about the Hinterlands, they doubtless do not do justice to my family’s ancestral pride-holdings.”

 

“Sit, sit,” Rei dismisses, dragging over a pillow to prop himself up onto it, entirely unconcerned about his continued state of undress underneath fluffs and furs. Koga would have something to say about rolling about in animal fur like this, but oh well. “Kaoru’s a dear friend of mine, but I understand his shortcomings. You should tell me a thing or two about the Hinterlands instead, perhaps.”

 

Souma’s eyes glow with pleasure, and he happily takes a seat on the edge of the bed, noting its softness with disapproval. “There is no one better from whom you could hear of my beautiful country,” he enthuses, face shining. “My people have lived here for thousands of years. Our legends say we first sailed in when the world was rent in two, and a river carved through this country so deeply that the giant sea turtles carried us on their backs. I’ve...always wanted to see such things with my own eyes, even though it’s lost to history.”

 

“It’s no small wonder you and Natsume get along, then—he’s from the Isles, so even if your blood from there has thinned, you must still have some camaraderie.” Rei’s eyes lid as he watches Souma, then flick to the quietly crackling fire, needing the distraction. Natsume is such a brilliant, distracting light that it’s hard to calm his blood after seeing him, and it’s no small wonder that Wataru would put such a charm on him to protect him because of it. _It’s unlike you to be so possessive, though, my friend._ “Tell me truthfully, then, because I can see you’re a man of honor. As far as you know, your family has nothing to do with this disgusting slave trade business, correct?”

 

“Never!” The passion behind that word is unmistakeable, and Souma reaches for the hilt of his sword, then forces himself to relax. “Did you say...the Isles? He isn’t--he isn’t one of the lords of those Isles, is he? My people, we fled from their oppression, back then...it’s why none of us will ever dabble in that most reprehensible of trades, and have managed the Hinterlands with that duty in mind for all these generations.”

 

“As far as I know, he’s just a cute little peasant girl,” Rei cheerfully says, immediately neglecting to confirm exactly who Natsume’s mother is, and subsequently, his status within the Isles in question. “I scooped him up when he was very young, so you needn’t worry about that. I’m glad to hear that your family isn’t involved, that would be troublesome for a young man like you. You know why I had to ask, of course; I’ve had friends of my own enslaved in that trade…and now it’s veering into the Shadowlands. It has to be stopped before the Hinterland mines are completely overrun by the trade.”

 

“It is a cancer on our society--no, on our very world,” Souma says passionately, turning to face Rei, reaching out to touch his arm. “I would never disgrace my history, nor my honor, by acting like that. I...I have a friend, quite a ways away, with whom I share my convictions. It’s very important to me.”

 

The touch is electric, no matter how Rei tries to ignore it. How unfortunate that he’s _like this_ —no, that’s not right. There’s nothing unfortunate about it; it’s simply unmanageable for humans like Shu, and that means a hefty amount of guilt with an equally hefty amount of dissatisfaction. Rei exhales a slow breath through his nose, shifting where he sits, but not away. “It’s a relief to know that not every family in the Hinterlands is corrupted by such things. Your friend…mm, where is he from?”

 

“The Sandlands. He’s a noble warrior of his people,” Souma says, eyes misting over at the thought. “And a man of great honor.”

 

Too soon, the thought of what Adonis would say if he knew Souma had shirked his responsibilities and run away occurs to him, and his eyes cast down, crestfallen. “I...will never see him again.”

 

“Hmm? And why’s that? Traveling to the Sandlands from here…well, it’s far, but not impossible…” Rei leans forward, tapping underneath Souma’s chin with a finger. “You’ve made friends with a great wizard and master of travel, if being discrete is part of the issue.”

 

Souma starts to respond, but feels his breath stutter in his throat. The touch doesn’t feel like a finger’s tap on his skin--it makes his whole neck prickle, then his chest, until his lungs constrict in sudden, breathtaking arousal. Spots of color rise in his cheeks, and he swallows hard, mortified at his own reaction. “I...” It’s hard to remember what he’d been about to say, and he fumbles for his words. “I--I ran away, you see...”

 

 _Whoops._ “Ah, sorry, it’s leaky today,” Rei vaguely says, smiling as he withdraws with a flutter of his hand. At least weeds have stopped trying to grow through Kaoru’s floorboards and causing so _much_ damage. “Right, so you ran away—why? You don’t seem the type.”

 

“I...” That much, at least, Souma remembers, though he doesn’t want to. “My elder sister was to be married. But she came down with the pox, out of the Shadowlands, and died the day before the wedding. Sending no one was out of the question, so they were going to send me, but I knew I’d be discovered, and that would be a much greater shame. I don’t...believe that they accept _bhenda_ brides south of here.”

 

“Ahh. My condolences, first of all.” Rei leans back, folding his hands in his lap. “It certainly would be a mess if you were to be sent and discovered, everything between the North and the South are annoyingly close-minded…where were you being sent off to, if I might ask? It might be worthwhile for me to look into the situation and try to resolve it so that you can return home.”

 

The second Rei leans away, some of that excitement fades, along with the warmth. Souma tries not to look disappointed. “They didn’t tell me, Milord. Only that it was to be a man of some importance. They didn’t tell me until the last possible moment, for fear that I would...well. Do something like this.” His mouth twists. “I was going to take my own life out of honor, but I ran into Milord Natsume, and he needed a guide. Ah, I suppose I should do that now.”

 

“Don’t do that, you’re far too young to die,” Rei quickly says, reaching back out to pat Souma’s head. A mistake, probably, because any touching right now makes him shivery and jittery, but here he is, an idiot as per usual. “And Natsume would be sad, in spite of how, ah, that way he is, sometimes. Your hair is _so_ soft, dear gods.”

 

“I...maintain it diligently,” Souma says, chest hitching again. Unbidden, he moves forward, kneeling next to Rei, quite pleased to be having his head patted. Without quite knowing why, he reaches up, freeing the tie that holds his hair in place, letting it fall down around his shoulders, reaching all the way to the bed. “Milord Rei can touch it more, if he likes. I, I am a youngest son of a Hinterlands family, after all.”

 

 _Well, to hell with it, then,_ Rei wryly thinks, and his fingers slide back through Souma’s hair, dragging along his scalp as they tangle through the soft, smooth strands. It’s easier than he’d thought it would be to fall back into old habits, and his magic is so _very_ on edge still that the process of actually snaring any and all potential partners is terribly easy. “Mmm? Does that mean something in particular?” he softly asks, deciding that being as clueless as possible can result in something enjoyable. “It’s so long. I’ve only ever seen one other man with hair as long as yours, and he’s barely human.”

 

“It is...an honor to have you enjoy it,” Souma says softly, eyes lidded in the pleasure of having his hair played with. “Ah...the youngest son, in wealthy families, is trained in the way of a _bhenda_ bride...a pleasure bride, for the good of strengthening alliances and...and...and Milord Rei has very nice hands,” he finds himself murmuring, leaning in close, resting his hands on Rei’s chest.

 

“The North and the South are quite similar sometimes, aren’t they,” Rei murmurs, his fingers thumbing against Souma’s temples before his nails scrape gently along Souma’s scalp again. “It’s the west and center that always have such hangups, which is such a shame…whoever they’re trying to wed you to should be grateful, not shamed.”

 

Souma leans in, and instinct takes over. Rei lurches forward, shoving him down, pinning him with a gentle hand over his throat. His thumb traces over Souma’s rapidly thudding pulse, and Rei’s breath hitches, the scent of blood and how it races through Souma’s veins suddenly stark and sweet in his nose. “It’d be a shame for someone not to appreciate you thoroughly,” he breathes. “What westerner or capital-born noble could do that?”

 

_But my honor--_

 

_\--was forfeit when I ran away--_

 

_\--but my purity--_

 

_\--is forfeit since I’m out of our lands--_

 

_\--but--_

 

_\--his hands--_

 

Instinct takes over, melding with training, and Souma arches back against the bed, arms twining up over his head, head rolling to the side to expose his pale neck. This man, this great lord, has a power about him that steals Souma’s good sense, making him squirm and pant when he hasn’t even been touched yet. “I...am at your service, Milord,” he breathes, eyes blown in anticipation.

 

Rei’s fingers slide up, thumb brushing the soft skin of Souma’s cheek before his hand traces up those lean arms to grip Souma’s wrists, deftly pinning him down. “I’ve had a handful of _bhenda_ before, but you…you’re splendid,” he sighs, bending low over Souma, long, dark hair spilling over his shoulders. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lower lip, allowing the tiniest glimpse of fangs. “I feel as though it’s only proper to warn you—I’ve been _very_ hungry since my mate has been away.”

 

Pride flares in Souma’s eyes, and he arches up, chest pressed against Rei’s, hair spilling back to reveal pale, smooth skin. “Milord Rei,” he says, as firmly as he can manage when he’s all worked up like this, “my people’s land...borders the Shadowlands. I’ve always known I could be given as a _bhenda_ to a bloodbred lord.”

 

He lets his head tilt to the side, exposing the column of his neck, even as the action makes him shiver. “Milord...I hope the taste is to your liking...”

 

Being invited is both the best and the worst. Rei’s breath hitches, and he hears his own pulse pound in his ears before he lunges, barely sucking on that soft, pale flesh before his fangs sink in, deep and sure.

 

The first taste of that blood makes him groan, and his fingers tighten around Souma’s wrists, biting into the skin. Rei swallows noisily, and his hips press down, the hard line of his cock rubbing against Souma’s still-clothed hip as he drinks in long, savoring gulps until finally drawing back, his pupils dilated, cheeks flushed and lips red. “You taste so _clean_ ,” he sighs, licking a stripe up the dripping bite mark left in his wake. “Like the mountains used to be here…mm, but you’re too young to know anything about that, aren’t you…”

 

“Our legends...speak of such things.” The words are panted, breathy, and Souma licks his lips. Pleasure buzzes through his body, mixed with the curious weakness of being drained, and the delightful relief of finally being _of use_ in the way he was born to be.

 

He squirms, trying to be free of his borrowed, enchanted clothes, but with his hands pinned, it’s no use. “Nnh, if Milord undresses me, he can have me as he wishes, as...as the Demon King of old parted the mountains...you can...” He lets his thighs part, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of what he wants to say. It would have been quite poetic, had he had the courage to follow through.

 

“Part your pretty thighs? But you’re already doing that for me,” Rei teasingly finishes, releasing Souma’s wrists with a last squeeze, reassured that they’ll stay put. The taste of blood is still heavy on his tongue, and his fingers tremble as they drag down to Souma’s laces, unraveling them in short order, yanking his clothes off and tossing them to the floor. “Demon Kings don’t change much, I’ll have you know,” he softly says, plucking up a well-loved bottle of oil from the beside table and letting it drip over his fingers. “The Demon King of this day and age—well, he’s enjoying this _plenty._ ”

 

_The Demon King?_

 

Souma had thought he’d met a powerful bloodbred--perhaps one of the Volcano Lords, or a younger son of a border kingdom, prone to wandering out of his own realm. But if this is truly the Demon King, this liaison could have far greater political ramifications, he could be upsetting the balance of power between the Hinterlands and the wizards...

 

And with this man between his legs, red-stained lips parted, his neck stinging pleasantly, blood thrumming beneath his skin, he doesn’t care.

 

His training tells him that it’s unseemly to enjoy this sort of thing, but no matter how sternly he reminds himself, his cock won’t listen. He grabs a pillow, pulling it over his face, hoping to hide the sudden desire he can’t repress. “I...am at your service,” he mumbles into the pillow, then lets his teeth dig into the fabric of the pillow, hoping to muffle his noises further.

 

“Ah, none of that now, I’ll see your face and how much you like this,” Rei hums, neatly grabbing the pillow away from Souma and tossing it aside just as he slides a pair of long fingers inside, slick with oil and pressing deep. He bends low over Souma, tongue dragging over the bite marks he left behind, sucking on it to gently drag a bruise to the surface before his mouth skirts lower, closing around a nipple instead. His magic shivers under the surface, but it’s less the obnoxious, unwieldy tidal wave of power that it’s been for the last decade, and just much more eager, much more quick to respond that _this is a hell of a meal, thank the gods._

 

Souma’s lips part around a soft, shivering cry. His hands stay where Rei had put them, above his head as if he’s chained to it, thighs spreading wider to accommodate the stretch of those long, clever fingers. He’d been good at this part of training, but it had been covered as almost an afterthought, something to learn on one’s own, because the chance of him actually being awarded as a _bhenda_ bride had been seen as slim, what with an older sister still alive...

 

Those fingers slide in deep, and he lets out another breathy squeak, toes curling, knees lifting into the air to try and drag the Demon King in deeper as his chest tingles. Rei’s mouth is hot and wet, dragging sensation out of his body in a way his tutors had never warned about, and warmth blooms deep in his belly. “M-Milord...ahh, I apologize, I’m--being unseemly--it’s just so...nnh--”

 

Rei’s teeth lightly tug on that nipple, sucking on it as Souma arches into the touch. “Unseemly?” he breathes as he pulls back with a last press and flick of his tongue. His fingers twist slowly, curling and stroking, drawing out every shiver, every curl of Souma’s toes, every squirm as he tries not to show how much he’s enjoying this. “Lovely, more like. This lord wants to watch you enjoy yourself, don’t hold yourself back.”

 

Souma’s fingers twitch towards the pillow, knowing just how obvious he’s being about his wanton desires, unable to stop himself when he feels like he’s being played like a violin. Rei’s fingers touch him like they’re plucking his strings, drawing little moans and gasps out of him. His tutors would be ashamed, his family disgraced, if they ever heard of him acting like this.

 

_At least I can do something..._

 

He reaches up, grabbing Rei by the neck, pulling him down as he wraps his legs around Rei’s narrow hips. “Milord Demon King,” he says, hiccuping just a bit, trying to hold those blazing crimson eyes without flinching from their heat, “claim your prize and move in me.”

 

The sound of blood thumping in his ears is all Rei can hear for a moment, before he moves, drags his hand away and grabs a handful of his hair instead, yanking his head back with a swift pull. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, guiding his cock to that sweet, slick hole, rubbing against it and then inside with one, insistent push. “You’ll have all you want of me.”

 

Inside, Souma is hot and slick and welcoming, and it’s surprisingly easy to sink inside, rocking in deep. Rei plants his other hand next to Souma’s head, that leverage letting him thrust in hard, his mouth hot on the side of Souma’s neck.

 

 _Don’t worry, Lord Souma. T_ he voice of one of his tutors echoes in his mind, from many years ago. _Likely you’ll never become a bhenda. And if you do, few lords claim them in the ways of old. Practice won’t be necessary._

 

Everything in Souma’s mind is overwhelming, electricity shooting through his limbs as he’s thoroughly, relentlessly claimed. He arches back, a high, ragged moan escaping his lips as Rei sinks deep into him, dragging sensations out of him, lighting him afire with the kind of want he’d always felt embarrassing for feeling.

 

Rei’s mouth just makes it worse (better) on his neck, and before he can stop himself, Souma drags his nails down Rei’s back. “M-Milord, I’m--ahhh-hhh, it’s--there’s so much, it’s--”

 

He can hardly breathe, as if the thick cock inside him is crowding out even the air in his lungs, sending sparks of pleasure and pain through him as he writhes.

 

The nails down his back makes Rei arch with a groan, his hips snapping forward hard, deep, _intent_ on being buried inside of Souma’s pliant form. His teeth nip at the side of Souma’s neck again, then he sucks instead of bites as he grinds forward, feeling the way Souma clenches down even tighter at such a sharp angle. “But you’re made for this, aren’t you?” he pants out, pawing a hand down Souma’s chest, pinching, gently pulling at one of his nipples. “You’re being so _good_ for me—maybe I’ll steal you away myself, and you can be _my_ bride…”

 

The orgasm that rips through Souma rocks him to his core. He doesn’t even have the chance to stop himself before he’s convulsing, face scrunched up in ecstasy that wrings him out, slams him against the wall of pleasure and leaves him jittery, charged-up, stars exploding in his mind as he spills.

 

Rei suddenly feels five times bigger inside of him as he spasms, tightening down on that incredibly thick length, and he whimpers, biting his bottom lip, clinging to Rei for support. “It’s--M-Milord, I--” There are no words for how _full_ he feels, how his body feels as if it’s been plugged into a bolt of lightning.

 

Rei muffles a growl into Souma’s hair, his own sticking to Souma’s neck and shoulders as he grinds forward, thrusting through each twitch and spasm. His magic lurches—trembling, as on edge as he himself is, and the way Souma clings to him just makes it better when he rocks forward, taking what he wants, what he needs, with shaky thighs and grabbing hands only spurring him on.

 

He comes after another few thrusts, panting out each breath against Souma’s skin, sweat running down his jawline as he buries himself to the hilt with a last grunt of effort. Souma is _so_ trembly-tight and wound up that it almost takes effort to stay there, and Rei exhales a long breath, mouthing wet kisses up his throat. “Good boy,” he sighs as his fingers drag down from Souma’s chest, running through the mess on his stomach, and when Rei brings it up to his own lips, the taste of sweat and semen makes him shudder.

 

The words are so gentle that tears spring to Souma’s eyes, and he buries his face in Rei’s chest, clinging to him with a hitch of breath. He shudders again, blinking rapidly, holding on tight until the shaking stops. “S-sorry,” he whispers. “I need to...control myself better. I won’t do it again.”

 

“Mm? No, no, do it again, and again, you’re lovely when you’re losing yourself.” Rei rolls slowly onto his side, dragging Souma with him, neatly gathering him into his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Perhaps they train _bhenda_ differently here these days…I’d be sad if I didn’t see you enjoy yourself.”

 

“Was it...different, back then?” Souma would be an utter fool not to notice how ancient this man feels, though his arms are warm, comforting. “It was better than they told me it would be.”

 

“Everything is different when you’re as old as I am,” Rei laughs, shifting again to help comb Souma’s hair out of the way so it can’t be laid upon and tugged. “The _bhenda_ I used to see come through the courts were masters of their own pleasure as well. For bloodbred, that’s not as important, but for a sex wizard like myself…it would be very distressing to have a little pet that didn’t enjoy themselves.”

 

“Mm, I wouldn’t want to displease you.” Souma nearly purrs, butting his head against Rei’s fingers. “There are so few of us left. It’s illegal to train or trade a _bhenda_ who isn’t of the old blood. I hope I didn’t disgrace my lineage in your mind, Milord. I’ve always kept my blood pure.”

 

“Of course you have. I can taste it, you know.” Rei’s eyes lid, his fingers petting slowly against Souma’s scalp. “There’s a similar sort of concept in the Sandlands, you know. No bloodline attached, but…do you know of it? You said you have a friend there.”

 

Souma shakes his head, blinking slowly, eyes lidding in pleasure. Belatedly, he remembers to reciprocate, and he starts kneading his fingertips gently into Rei’s shoulders. “We never talked of such things. Mostly we talked about each others’ muscles, and our ideals. He didn’t know...about my family’s training. I didn’t think it would really happen, you see.”

 

“Ahhh. Well, now you’ve been put to good use, haven’t you?” Rei teases before he shivers underneath the touch of Souma’s hands. His shoulders roll before he leans down to steal a kiss directly from Souma’s mouth. “Don’t do that, or I’ll get started again. I don’t want to misuse you right from the start. Ah, what was I talking about, right, the Sandlands. They aren’t called _bhenda_ down there, of course—they’re just prostitutes, but the concept remains, a sort of third gender, if you will…affairs and liaisons with them don’t particularly _count_ in terms of destroying marriages and the like. A shame whatever lord you were being handed off to would undoubtedly be…mm…squeamish, about something similar.”

 

Souma subsides when he’s put off, dropping his hands to the bed obediently. “That was my fear,” he admits. “A warrior shouldn’t fear other men, but...I feared that he would be displeased and cast me to the side. My family--they mean well, and they’re very honorable, but they haven’t traveled. They won’t listen when I tell them that in the rest of the country, they don’t respect _bhenda_. If I were given to a Sandlands lord, would they...sell me, do you think? In the West, or the Capital...if it were considered an insult, my family would be in danger. I couldn’t allow such a thing. Better for me to disappear.”

 

“A Sandlands lord would…hmmm.” Rei contemplates this, stroking a hand slowly down Souma’s back. “They’d probably respect the concept and keep you, honestly. You know, I know a few Sandlands lords. You should let me introduce you, if you’d like to disappear properly.”

 

“Mm?” Souma blinks, rousing himself from his deep relaxation. “Ah, whatever Milord desires. I belong to you now, of course, so you may do as you please.”

 

“Is that so…” _Whoops._ Rei idly wonders what Shu would think of this, and extends a sheepish, affectionate little prod in Shu’s direction. Even with their bond solidly blocked he should feel that much—maybe. “For now, why don’t you get some rest. You’ve been running about with Natsume, and I know he isn’t exactly considerate of others.”

 

“Mm, Lord Natsume is a very courageous and considerate person,” Souma murmurs, nuzzling into Rei’s chest. “But if Milord desires it, I will kill even him for his sake. Ah...is it always so tiring?”

 

From afar, a pleased prickle of affection returns along the bond, colored with warmth.

 

“Only if you’re doing it correctly, I think.” Rei drags up one of the kicked-aside furs, tucking it around Souma. The return touch from so far away makes Rei’s pulse flutter, and he shuts his eyes, exhaling a long, slow breath. “Don’t kill Natsume. Just get some rest, your lord demands it.”

 

“Yes...Milord.”

 

All things considered, Souma thinks, as he passes out into a deep, untroubled sleep, he could have been claimed by a much worse lord.


	31. Chapter 31

The Sandlands are beautiful.

 

Adonis has grown up knowing of their beauty, and respecting their brutality. He sees the sandstorms sweeping in off of the horizon and blinding, shredding everything in their paths. He’s also seen the purest, cleanest sunrises and sunsets over those same sands, in the wake of storms so large he thought they’d tear the world apart. Just because he sees the fact that the desert lizards eat their crippled young doesn’t mean he won’t try to save them, hiding them in his shirt and raising them in his room in carefully sculpted terrariums.

 

Even the beauty of the Sandlands can be cruel. But the cruelty of the Sandlands is not beautiful.

 

“Please don’t think this is the best of my country,” he says quietly, swinging off of Midnight’s saddle, taking the reins of Mika’s horse. “Every place has terrible deeds. I dislike seeing the ugly side of my home, but...”

 

The slave market is crowded and filthy, bustling with people shouting, fighting, screaming, and just trying to get to their destination without drawing stares. Adonis pulls his own headwrap down, concealing his identity the way he always does in this quarter of the city. He’d brought one for Mika too, with a deep fold to hide his lovely face. “There’s a hostler that will take care of them while we look around.”

 

Even if the sights around him are somewhat lost with poor vision, Mika can fill in the blanks courtesy of smells and sounds, none of which he enjoys.

 

Adonis’s words, unfortunately, fall on deaf ears. As much as he tries to hide his trembling, it’s impossible, and he does _not_ want to climb off of his horse, no matter how the animal clearly finds his presence distasteful. He forces himself a moment later, not wanting to draw any _extra_ attention to himself, and pulls his head scarf tightly around his face before he grabs at Adonis’s arm, clinging to him. At least he has an excuse to do as much, and it’s not unseemly in this circumstance. _Maybe this was a bad idea_ he wants to say, but bites his tongue, suddenly _very_ aware of how carefully he needs to conduct himself here, of all places. “Please don’t let go of me,” he softly says instead. The idea of being snatched up here, even for the sake of his mission— _absolutely not, no thank you._

 

Adonis lifts Mika gently free of the horse, and tucks him under one arm, in the safety that comes from being close to his body. “I’ll hold you close here,” he promises. “You’re small, so you could get lost if I let you go.”

 

He gives their horses to a hostler, then steers Mika towards where he knows the auction house is, settling his stomach by sheer force of will. “You can act like my concubine,” he says quietly. “I suppose that’s not a lie, if that helps. I always prefer to tell the truth.”

 

 _I’m going to have to, or I’m going to get killed_ , Mika thinks, wrapping his fingers up into the linen of Adonis’s shirt. “Do you come out here often…Milord?” It’s less formal than ‘Your Highness’ or any variation of that, and less likely to draw attention. Mika sucks in a steadying breath, and dares to try and focus on anything close to them as they walk—a mistake, that, when most of the blurry images his eyes can make out are of slaves well past their prime. “I don’t remember places like this from when I was young…has this…always been so…”

 

“As long as I can remember.”

 

Adonis walks slowly, trying not to outpace Mika’s much smaller steps, constantly checking to make sure he’s keeping up. “My tutor took me here when I came of age. The...” His mouth thins with anxiety at what he has to say. “The ones that sell for...lower prices...are first. The ones with obvious defects, they say. Then the able-bodied workers. Then the young ones, and last the talented ones. Which are you looking for?”

 

“Anyone foreign, specifically,” Mika softly answers, clutching tightly at the firmly muscled arm he’s offered. “Younger, is also what I’ve been told. My apologies, I can’t look for them myself when I’m like this.”

 

“Are there any identifying marks? I’ll do my best. They know me here at least.” Adonis nods at a man guarding the door, who takes one look at him and steps aside. A moment later, an usher comes to escort them to a couple of private seats, with a very good and close view of the stage. “I’ve made many purchases in the past.”

 

Mika starts to settle down next to him, then reconsiders, and neatly crawls his way into Adonis’s lap, arms wound around his neck. “I know a couple of them were noble children from the capital,” he murmurs, his face half-buried into Adonis’s neck for easy relaying of information. “So fair-skinned, probably light-haired…the king didn’t give me many details, my apologies.”

 

“The chances of them being here today are not high,” Adonis says quietly, wrapping an arm around Mika’s waist, thinking he understands what Mika is doing. “Yes, this makes it easier to talk to you. But sometimes, with the more expensive property, if the seller doesn’t reach a high enough price, he will refuse to sell. Some very expensive slaves stay on the market for weeks before a wealthy enough buyer comes along. So if your villain is very greedy, you may be lucky.”

 

 _You don’t have to point out that it’s easier to talk like this_ , Mika wearily thinks, but he snuggles closer all the same, intent on looking convincing. “Recent intel points to traders directly from the capital as well as some natives…so if the profits have to be split like that, being very greedy is definitely part of their character,” he murmurs, thinking back to the sealed letter Hajime had passed to him just that morning, written in a hasty scrawl that he hadn’t recognized. “Which ones do you usually buy?”

 

Adonis shrugs. “I wish I could buy all of them. I...” He shifts, uncomfortable with the subject rather than the position. “I usually buy the smallest ones. They need the most help. And their lives will probably be the most difficult if no one helps them. They’re usually very afraid of me, though.”

 

Mika’s fingers curl against the back of Adonis’s neck, absently stroking. _Please don’t bat my hands away, it makes me look like I don’t know what I’m doing_ , he wearily thinks, tilting his head back to try and get a better look around the room. It’s moot, of course; with his sight this bad and a budding headache behind his eyes, the blur of the room does little but make it worse. “Are there a lot of foreign buyers that come through here? Or is it just…locals, mostly? I’ve never actually been to a place like this…”

 

“This is the largest buying day of the moon cycle.” Adonis sits stiffly, not batting Mika’s hands away, even relaxing a bit at the gentle touch. “It’s not usually this full. This is the longest travel time of the year, so...that’s why there are foreigners.”

 

He nods slightly at the stage. “If there are slaves they want to sell for very high prices, it should be today. I wouldn’t bring you on a regular day.”

 

The clap of the auctioneer’s mallet makes Mika flinch, and he barely resists the urge to huddle back into a ball against Adonis’s chest. _“Please don’t think this is the best of my country”_ Adonis had said— _this is my country, too,_ Mika thinks, _and mostly, it just seems the same as always._

 

A few possible scenarios run through Mika’s head as the auction picks up, and out comes the first offering for sale, an obviously native girl, dark-skinned and very beautiful.If anyone that the crown is looking for is for sale, pushing Adonis to purchase them is too risky, but letting them slip through the cracks and off to some buyer that’s going to do who knows what with them—“Do they keep records here?” he softly asks, forcing his eyes to stop trying to strain at the sights in the room. He peers up at Adonis instead, fingers clinging to the ends of his hair. “About the buyers?”

 

Adonis’s brow furrows at the sight of the young girl. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I’ve never asked.”

 

“Here we have a fine specimen! Only the best for you finest of guests, of course! Just nine years old, already trained in every domestic art, only one previous master--don’t look at me like that, honored guests, pre-owned means pre-trained!”

 

The auctioneer surveys the audience, then spots Adonis, and subtly turns towards him. “She’s very small, not terribly good at defending herself, and--”

 

“Ten silvers,” Adonis says helplessly.

 

For not the first time, Mika finds himself resentful that he has to work with someone so obviously _unequipped_ to deal with the cruelties of the slave trade. _Why couldn’t it be someone like Rei?_ he grumpily thinks, shifting unhappily in Adonis’s lap. Adonis is a good person, perhaps _too_ good, and while Mika can appreciate the empathetic personality he has, in this particular circumstance, it’s just… “Milord, we’re not here for this,” he hisses into Adonis’s ear.

 

“You’re not,” Adonis says placidly. His eyes are sad, focused on the young girl, and there’s a reason he’d brought a very full purse. “You probably shouldn’t talk back, though.”

 

The auctioneer waits, but there are no other bids, and before long, money is exchanged, and the young girl kneels on the floor next to Adonis, looking down at the ground, collared with her leash in Adonis’s hand.

 

Despite Mika’s obvious annoyance, Adonis bids three more times, and the empty area near each bit of chairs starts to make sense. Very quietly, Adonis says in Mika’s ear, “Look at it this way. No one will blink if you need me to bid on someone. They know me here.”

 

Now is not the time to get into an argument about how Mika appreciates what Adonis is doing, honestly, he does, but does he _not_ see how difficult he’s making this and if he just cooperates for now, it’ll be much easier to free _everyone_ later? Biting his tongue takes effort, and Mika finally _does_ have to lowly point out, “You bid on a very _certain_ kind of slave, Milord. It’s going to look out of place. The auctioneer even knows your tastes.”

 

Adonis shrugs. “He likes money. It’ll just look like I’m giving you a gift.”

 

Mika looks up at him grumpily. “In what way? What about me looks like I want you to buy _me_ a slave? If you sit and think about it,” he adds underneath his breath, “it makes much more sense to _not_ bid on them, and to try and seek out the buyer records afterwards, that’s why I asked if those exist. I don’t want to draw too much attention to us, but…”

 

The next slave up for auction is a foreigner, but not the sort that they’re looking for. She looks terrified all the same, and even if Mika can’t see it clearly, the unease that follows each and every slave in the air makes _him_ more anxious by the moment, until the next child that’s pulled onto the stage is pale, light-haired, and the clink of coins about the room is unmistakable. Mika shifts, tilting his head slightly to try and get a better look at who might be showing interest—a futile attempt that he wants to slap himself for. “Just…keep an eye on who might be bidding,” he softly says. “Before you do it yourself.”

 

Adonis nods slightly, just enough to show that he’s heard. He sits quietly for the first dozen bids, and it goes _fast_ with this one. He mentally recites the names or ranks of all the bidders he recognizes, but once the bidding slows, whispers, “Shall I? She’s small, it won’t seem strange.”

 

Mika hesitates, then nods, curling his fingers against Adonis’s shoulders. Just _one_ can’t be a bad idea, and maybe she’ll be able to point to how she got here, even if she’s so little—

 

“10 gold royals.”

 

 _That’s_ a sharp increase in price. Mika carefully peers around Adonis—moot point, when will he remember?—to catch a glimpse. Even if he can’t see the man clearly, he _sounds_ Capital-born, and maybe a little familiar? It’s hard to tell.

 

Adonis waits for the shuffle of the crowd, then turns as well, though he knows who he’ll see. He nods to the older man, which should hopefully tell Mika that he knows him, can identify him later. Placidly, he declares, “Twelve gold royals.” Nothing else need be said. Their bids speak for themselves.

 

“Fine specimen here, two bidders of discerning taste--I clearly don’t need to tell you men about any of her fine breeding, but maybe if it goes up to twenty, my lips will open...do I hear twenty?”

 

“Fifteen,” the man offers up, and Mika shifts restlessly. Definitely familiar, or is he just trying to convince himself? Either way, he tries to settle and not look too on-edge, his nails gently pricking into Adonis’s shoulders.

 

Adonis lifts Mika, settling him down next to his new slaves. “Please watch them,” he says quietly, unable to stand the distracting fidgeting anymore, when each shift seems like Mika is trying to tell him something he doesn’t understand. “Seventeen,” he says, more loudly.

 

Sweat beads on the auctioneer’s brow, the result of a long day and budding excitement of these two wealthy bidders actually competing. “Anything I can show you to sweeten the deal?” he asks, looking between Adonis and the other bidder. “Can’t allow you to touch the merchandise, of course, but I can provide visual confirmation of virginity, if that’s a selling point! Do I hear twenty? I’m looking for twenty!”

 

The foreigner heaves a sigh as if this is entirely too troublesome. “Nineteen.”

 

Mika slides obediently to his knees, no matter the anxiety that twists in his stomach. The youngest, tiniest of the bunch immediately gloms onto him, trembling and terrified, and he sets a hand on her head, stroking her hair slowly.

 

_“Nineteen days, that’s about how long we can hold them before the king gets suspicious.”_

 

Right—that’s it. The name escapes him, or maybe he never had a chance to actually place it to a face, but the man is _absolutely_ connected to the crown—or the crown that once-was, and specifically, part of the coup that had been so soundly against Leo, the men that had tried to corner Arashi for interrogation in the Sandlands years ago. It’s unsurprising, but unsettling still. There aren’t exactly many options these days about who it could be; some of those men are dead, one imprisoned, others exiled. Belatedly, Mika tugs up his scarf again to better hide his face. Probably, he’s unrecognizable, but there’s always a _chance._

 

“Nineteen, nineteen, I’ll tell you gentlemen, I don’t think her seller is going to--”

 

“Twenty-five,” Adonis interrupts, drawing startled murmurs from the back of the audience. He stands, holding up his purse, and looks behind, as if daring the other man to continue. “I will collect my purchase now.”

 

The auctioneer pales slightly, and looks at the other bidder. “Ah...my lord, should you wish to place another bid...?”

 

The man’s jaw clenches in irritation, and he sits down with a wave of his hand, begrudgingly resigning. “There’ll always be another,” he mutters, leaning to the side to whisper to one of his attendants.

 

 _Who? Who the hell is that?_ Mika desperately thinks, and he almost climbs to his feet before being bid, too overeager to grab Adonis’s newest purchase and immediately interrogate them. He catches himself belatedly, and focuses instead on the handful of slaves now clinging to him. “Milord—perhaps that’s enough for now,” he cautiously whispers.

 

Adonis hesitates, then nods. “Please go get her from the stage,” he asks Mika quietly. He gathers up the short leashes of the children kneeling by his seat--the smallest, the weakest ones they’d had to offer, four including the fair-haired child--and waits for Mika, just as eager as he is to leave this place.

 

Mika nods, quickly rising with a bow of his head to go and do as he’s asked. The child immediately flinches back when he reaches for her, a wide-eyed, trembling mess where she kneels. He hesitates, then grabs her by the hand, pulling her forward to be easily picked up. She feels like skin and bones, _much_ lighter than either of Izumi’s children ever have been. “Easy,” he whispers in common tongue. “You’ll be safe now.”

 

A language she can actually understand is enough to calm her, apparently, and her trembling relaxes somewhat as she clings to his neck, face buried into his hair. He quickly turns to follow Adonis, sparing a wary glance to where the other, older bidder had been seated—but he’s gone now, and that’s troubling.

 

“This is more than I’ve ever purchased,” Adonis mutters, looking side to side, ushering Mika and the children towards the exit. Theft isn’t uncommon, in the underbelly of this city, and he can’t be everywhere at once.

 

 _“The best defense is an obvious willingness to do violence.”_ A friend had told him that once, and Adonis takes that advice now, resting his hand on his cutlass hilt the way he never does in public. “Grab on to me, if you need to,” he says to Mika, and starts to make his way through the thick crowds.

 

Mika immediately grabs onto the back of Adonis’s shirt, clinging tightly. With his nerves already on edge, crowds like this make his head spin, and it takes effort to focus enough. Having a very terrified child latched onto him is helpful—if he’s not doing it for himself, at least for a child, he can manage it.

 

Keeping up with Adonis isn’t the easiest task, especially when he ends up scooping up another child slave that can’t quite keep up. “Milord—the second we’re able, we need to talk,” he lowly insists, trembling a bit himself as Adonis retrieves their horses from the hostler. “Privately.”

 

Adonis nods, and starts piling children onto his horse, managing three of them on his own mount, Mika and the last child on the other. He looks up at the children on his horse, and assures them, “This is a very smart, very strong horse. He will take care of you, because you are little. No one can hurt you when you’re in the saddle, so hang on tight. Mika, will you translate, please.” He starts to lead them out of the market, his step quick, eyes still wary.

 

“His horse will protect you and no one will touch you, so just hang on tight,” Mika softly, succinctly tells them, not wanting anyone hear him speak common tongue more than necessary, even in a crowded market. The little girl in his arms clings tighter to him, refusing to allow even a centimeter between them. “That man—I noticed he left rather quickly,” he says to Adonis, his own nervousness bleeding through into his voice. “You know him. Is he going to try and steal her because he lost?”

 

“Not from me.” Adonis takes a deep breath, leading the horses out through the gates. “But it might make for some awkward family dinners. He’s married to my oldest sister.”

 

Mika’s blood runs cold. “I hadn’t seen him around the palace,” he whispers, his fingers white-knuckled on his horse’s mane. “I didn’t know. I…I know him, too. But not from that.” 

 

“He doesn’t live at the Palace. He and my sister live in the Capital. But they’re visiting for the festival season.” Adonis looks behind, but there’s no pursuit, and he starts to breathe easier. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

“That. This. For starters. He—is his house Blake or Wynne? I know he’s one of those, I just don’t have a face to the name—he was involved in the coup to overthrow the king years ago.” Mika winces, self-consciously pulling his scarf up again. “If he’s around the palace for the season, I’m going to have to be careful. I don’t think he’d recognize me alone, but…if I’m around Shu, that might do it, and it could jeopardize all of this. Damn it.”

 

“You aren’t supposed to be around him anyway,” Adonis reminds Mika. “I don’t mind, of course, but you will get in trouble if you’re somewhere you aren’t supposed to be. And it’s Wynne, Elvan Wynne.” Adonis pauses, then adds, “I do not like him.”

 

Mika opens his mouth to argue reflexively that he _needs_ to be around Shu, but he shuts it a second later, sulking, not wanting to argue about something that he begrudgingly agrees with. It’s not safe, it’s stupid. Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. “He’s a terrible man,” he says instead. “I hope your sister is…safe, with him, for what that’s worth.”

 

Adonis sets his jaw grimly. “They are...compatible.” He falls silent after that, hoping that speaks for itself.

 

“…Ah.” That makes Mika’s heart flutter nervously. “Then…the next topic is even more important. How are we getting these children to safety?”

 

“That part is easy,” Adonis assures him. Having Mika here is a relief. Otherwise, it would just be him and the children, and they’d likely be afraid of him. “Rei has set up a place for me to bring anyone in need of help. I have brought slaves there in the past, often. They’ll work in my service until I can take them, which should be within the week. If you could tell them...”

 

Mika nods, relieved at that news, at least, and whispers the news to the little girl clinging to him first, then leans over to relay the same to the others. They still look nervous, as if they don’t quite believe him, but hopefully, they’ll realize soon enough that he’s telling the truth. “How much common tongue can I get away with around your family…” he worriedly wonders aloud. “Not much, I bet…ah, if your sister and her husband are staying for the whole festival season, that’s another…four weeks?”

 

“Thirty days,” Adonis confirms. “Until the end of the darkest moon. Mm, I don’t think common tongue would be too bad. Many of the...many courtesans learn to impress expensive clients, I think. I don’t know too many. We can take one of them to the safe house today, but only one can go at a time.”

 

“Where I grew up, it was completely forbidden.” Mika worries at his lower lip. “If we’re going to take one today, we should take her,” he says, nodding to the girl clinging to him. “I’ll try to talk to her a bit more and find out who her parents are, but she’s clearly some nobleman’s daughter. If we return her, then maybe that’ll spark more interest from the capital to put a proper end to the trade.”

 

Adonis slows his pace, frowning slightly. “I...don’t want to sound negative,” he says quietly. “But just in case anything happens...perhaps you should ask her what she knows before we say goodbye to her.” It’s a callous thing to say, he thinks, and would be better in Rei’s mind than his own.

 

“I was going to try…but…well, look at her.” The girl hasn’t once lifted her face from where it’s stuffed into his chest, and Mika can feel little bruises starting to form where her nails dig into his skin. “Maybe once she has a meal and a safe place to be for a few hours, she’ll calm down, but…”

 

Adonis nods. “Then let’s get one of the others out while we can.” He lapses into silence again, then adds, “I’ve never taken more than one person at a time. How do I tell them I’m choosing between them?”

 

“I’ll explain it to them. Slaves…they understand that sort of thing more than you’d think, you know. It’s not the first time one of them has been chosen over the other.” Mika exhales a slow breath, briefly shutting his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not exactly…the best at trying to get my point across or at being in the middle of all of this, but I…I really do appreciate all the help.”

 

Adonis looks up at Mika as if trying to figure out the meaning behind the words. “This is what I do,” he says simply. “Whenever I can. It isn’t enough. But I hope if I work with people who are doing more, it might be enough someday. People like you.”

 

“What you’re doing is more than most people,” Mika protests. “I’m barely able to do anything at all—I…I wish I could go into the auction houses like that and buy all of them, but that’s not fixing the problem, and that’s so stressful, it’s…”

 

The girl in his arms butts her face harder against his shoulder. “I want my mommy,” she whispers.

 

It’s like a punch to the gut. Mika’s lower lip trembles and he squeezes her closer, rubbing a hand down her back. “It’s okay, you’ll get to go home soon,” he quietly promises, looking down at Adonis. “I’m not cut out for this,” he says with a wet laugh. “I get too attached. Are you sure we can’t drop more than one off?”

 

“They only go up to the Capital once every week,” Adonis says quietly. “And they can only take one at a time. There’d be no one to...” He trails off, thinking. “We could go. Take them ourselves.”

 

“I can’t leave Shu down here all by himself for that long,” Mika frets, shaking his head as he cuddles the girl to his chest. “Maybe…I could try to get in touch with some of my connections in the capital? They could come get them, then they wouldn’t have to wait so long down here and keep being slaves…”

 

Adonis reaches behind, and lays a gentle hand on Mika’s horse’s reins, so he doesn’t scare Mika by touching him. “It is temporary. Better to keep them safe at my side for now, then get them to a better life. If we try to rush, they may be in danger.”

 

Mika hesitates before he nods, blinking hard to keep his eyes from watering too much and sending streaks of kohl down his face. “I…I know. You’re right, I’m sorry, I’m not good at seeing little kids in situations like this. It makes me want to do really stupid things, and maybe blow up this entire country.”

 

“I would like you not to,” Adonis says very seriously. “You’ll be taking care of them until we can get them to safety. So please do not blow them up.”

 

“I won’t blow the kids up. Just everything else.” Mika huffs, settling back. “But I won’t, not really. I can’t. If I’m taking care of them, does that mean they’ll stay with me? It’d be easier to keep them safe that way…”

 

Adonis nods. “I don’t have any more empty suites in my wing. It’s the smallest one in the palace. Sorry you were given to the least regarded sibling.”

 

“It’s better this way,” Mika dismisses with a flutter of his hand. “And it’s also better that you’re the…ah…least regarded sibling. Very little of the palace pays attention to me, which is helpful. At the end of all of this, though, if you aren’t the _most_ regarded, I’ll raise hell. You should be on that throne, not any of your sisters.”

 

Adonis walks for a long few moments without speaking, one foot in front of the other, the muscles in his legs making quick work of the small sandy dunes covering the shortcut between the slave market and the palace. A sand lizard darts in front of him, hissing and spitting, and he steps gently to the side, avoiding its venom. “I just want to be able to protect small and weak things,” he says quietly. “However I can do that is good.”

 

“It’s hard to protect people when you aren’t in a position to do so,” Mika softly says, adjusting the girl against his chest. She finally has stopped shaking, and is more or less asleep, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Your family makes it hard. The Sandlands in general…make it hard.”

 

Adonis blinks, looking back at Mika. “I want to fix them,” he allows. “But if they can’t be fixed, I’d rather be where I’m needed than somewhere people have it easy.”

 

“Obviously. I’m just saying…well. You’ll make a bigger dent in this place eventually. The only good thing about it these days is the weather,” Mika huffs, and adds after a second, “And the sweets.”

 

“I heard you like sweets,” Adonis says, disapprovingly. “But someone as small as you should eat meat. That’s how you get big and strong. I need to get even bigger, if I’m going to defend myself against my sisters.”

 

“Meat’s no good. I’m as big as I’m going to get, so I might as well just eat what I like, which isn’t much, anyway. You’re already big, your sisters can’t be _that_ much bigger.”

 

“Oh. You haven’t met them yet.” Adonis’s expression turns stormy, and he faces the road again, leading the horses inside the palace grounds proper. “They’re large. And very powerful. They thought it was very funny when I was small.”

 

“Sounds like I’d rather not meet them if I can help it,” Mika mutters, finally pulling off his scarf courtesy of the combination of sweatiness and being safe within the palace grounds again. “They sound…unpleasant.”

 

Adonis nods. “Then I’m describing them correctly. They...taught me that bullying was wrong. Through showing me what never to do.” He falls silent, not wanting to be overheard, and stops the horses near the stable, lifting each child down in turn. “Would you mind getting them settled and meeting me in the courtyard? I want to know they’re safe and clean.”

 

Mika carefully slides his way off of the horse, trying not to take offense at the way the animal immediately shudders in relief. _Even sealed, you can still tell, huh?_ he sadly thinks, resisting the urge to pat its neck apologetically. That will just stress it out more. “I’ll take care of them, Milord,” he reassures Adonis, grabbing the hands of two children and urging the other two to grab onto the back of his silks. “We’re going to go have a bath, all right?” he softly tells them in common tongue, tugging them along. “And you can be all safe and comfy in my room.”

 

At the sight of Mika leading the four children, Shu’s face falls into a dismayed, wonder-filled mask of shock. He watches the little parade, trickling into their rooms, with nothing so much as bewilderment. “You...have been busy,” he finally manages in Sandtongue. “I was going to lecture you for being late, but...”

 

“We made progress,” Mika huffs, glancing quickly about as he pulls the curtain to his chamber shut behind him. “Hajime?”

 

“Here! Sorry, sorry,” Hajime squeaks, bolting around the corner of the balcony and immediately pausing to stare wide-eyed at the collection of tiny children. “Oh…”

 

“Can you draw them a bath? Please? And be nice, they’re really scared…”

 

Hajime nods, though the last suggestion is unnecessary what with how the kids flock to him as easily as they did Mika. “Common tongue, then?” he softly tries, holding out his hands. “Come along, come along—you look like you’re no older than my little sisters and brothers.”

 

Mika heaves a sigh of relief, dropping onto the edge of his bed as all of his energy seems to seep out of him at once. “Master, slave auctions are no good,” he miserably says. “Especially when there are so many little tiny kids there…”

 

Shu strokes his hair immediately, pulling a comb and tiny vial of scented oil from his bedside table, working gently through the knots in his hair. “You little fool,” he says softly. “You’ve overextended yourself, you know. Did I just see a Northern child in there? You could have just solved this entire crisis, you know, but you’re shaking like a leaf.”

 

Mika sags underneath the touch as if his strings were cut. “Mm, she’s definitely one of the ones missing,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes. “Hasn’t talked to me yet, too scared, but she’s gotta be. There were so _many_ people, and so many…so many people for sale, it’s disgusting.” He shivers, curling his fingers against his knees to try and stop from shaking. “One of the nobles involved in the coup against Leo. He’s here. He wanted to buy her.”

 

“Do you think...he knew who she was?” Shu asks, immediately trying to send a mental conversation to Rei, cursing this whole stupid situation when he runs up against his own mental block. “Mm, just a moment, I’ll write him a letter. Tell me everything you remember--where it was, how many auctions there were, how many bidders, the prices--anything you remember.”

 

“I don’t knooow, don’t stop petting me right now, too many questions.” Mika rubs a hand across his eyes, belatedly remembering he’s wearing makeup. Well, whatever. “He’s married to Adonis’s sister,” he mutters. “And they’re here for the season. Apparently, just got in. We’ll have to be careful, I don’t think he recognizes me, but if we’re together, he might…”

 

Shu nods shortly, and returns to straightening Mika’s hair. “I quite dislike this whole, not being able to communicate with Rei thing,” he mutters. “It’s far easier to be in his mind. Of course, it’s quite distracting as well. Especially right now.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Mika quietly says, sagging a bit more. “If you need to go and get in touch with him…now might not be a bad time? I can probably…no, I’ll definitely hold everything down here.”

 

Shu snorts. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not leaving you. I’m certainly not leaving this place, not when it’s so utterly treacherous at every step of the way. Certainly not if this goes all the way up to the royal family.” He pauses, thinking. “Send Hajime to get a message to Keito or...ah, what’s his name, Rei’s spy. He’s very average, so I forget he exists.”

 

Mika nods, then flops backwards, turning his head to bury his face firmly into Shu’s neck. “I’m not good at this,” he miserably says. “I just wanna rescue all of them. They’re so _scared_ , Master, and the things they say at those auctions…ugh. If I hadn’t been sealed, I’d probably just level the whole place. Everyone there, they deserve it. No one else was there to rescue anyone like Adonis was.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Shu says, lips thinning at the thought. “Though, of course, you don’t know that. Unless you’ve developed a talent for reading minds.”

 

“No, but I’ve got a talent for telling who’s gross and who isn’t,” Mika mutters. “Men down here, and women, too—I swear, something’s just wrong in their heads.”

 

“People are always worse when they think no one else is watching,” Shu says softly, “and the worst of all when they think they’re among like-minded creatures. The Academy was the same way. None of them will ever be forgiven.”

 

Mika nods, and lies there for a moment more, cuddled up against Shu before he sucks in a deep breath and forces himself to straight up, slapping both hands gently to his own cheeks. “Right, I can do this,” he whispers, a long shiver going through him before he turns to Shu. “Do I look presentable still? Not too stressed out? I can’t wait to go home and never brush my hair again…”

 

“You’re leaking,” Shu says quietly, and reaches up, brushing his fingers against Mika’s temples. He breathes in, then out, and the seals shiver into better-fitting place. “A little better?”

 

“Mm.” Mika reflexively butts his head into Shu’s touch, unable to stop himself. “Sorry you have to keep fixing me up. Ahh, wow, I didn’t realize what a headache I had until it left…”

 

“M-my apologies, but she _very_ much wants you,” Hajime suddenly interjects, wetter than the child he brings back in, swaddled in an enormous towel with only her blonde little head poking out. Her arms immediately reach out for Mika, and Mika meets her half-way, letting her immediately cling to his neck.

 

“Easy, I’m here,” Mika murmurs, adjusting her in his lap to better let her hold onto him. “Hajime—when you get done, I think Master’s going to have a letter to pass onto you.”

 

Hajime nods, bowing quickly before darting back off to finish the task of bathing three more squirmy, scared children. The girl in question peers up at Mika, then nervously over to Shu. “Don’t be afraid, he’s the nicest man you’ll ever meet,” Mika reassures her as he looks to Shu worriedly. “She’s tinier than even Izumin’s kids.” 

 

Shu looks down at the little girl, then sighs. “I think I recognize you--is it Selmy? Lord Barstian’s daughter? You came to the Capital when your father swore loyalty to the king, didn’t you? Yes, yes, I have far more a memory for beautiful children than horrible adults.” He turns, looking through his chest. “My position isn’t for nothing, you know. Do you like dolls?”

 

“See, I told you he’s the nicest,” Mika whispers, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be safe when we’re around, you know? And with Lord Adonis, he’s a good person.”

 

Selmy still looks hesitant, but her grip loosens a bit on Mika’s clothes as she watches Shu. “Y…yes,” she eventually, softly answers. “You know my daddy?”

 

“Mm, and we’ll get you back to him and your mama as soon as we can.” Mika gently combs a few strands of hair out of her face. “Do you remember how you got all the way here?

 

“Someone…someone mean took me.” She trembles, biting at her lip. “If I tell, they’ll hurt me, they said that.”

 

“So, a secret.” Shu pulls out a dark-haired, fair-skinned doll, then plucks at her hair, turning it light blonde with a little flash of minor magic. “This isn’t just any doll, Selmy. Do you want to see my favorite doll? She’s a beautiful little girl, just like you.”

 

At a thought, Milady flitters up out of her chair, landing gracefully on his knee, the one without the other doll on it. “She’s my favorite,” Shu informs Selmy. “I tell her all of my secrets, and she’s enchanted to keep them forever. If you give this little girl a name, you can tell her your secrets. How does that sound?”

 

Selmy’s eyes are wide, and she almost reaches out before looking nervously back up at Mika. “It’s okay,” he reassures her, tugging the towel off of her head a bit. “He’s telling the truth, I promise.”

 

“T…then…Lily? That’s my maid’s name…”

 

“I’m sure she’s waiting for you back home—“

 

Suddenly, Selmy shakes her head vehemently, and the tears that well up in her eyes are fast in coming. “T-they hurt her, too,” she whimpers. “I—I dunno w-who it was, in the c-c-capital, but he had a priest robe a-and…and he made me go with him, and s-stay with him, ‘till a lady came…”

 

“Selmy,” Shu says, far more calmly than he feels inside towards a person, towards a world that would treat such a lovely, innocent person so cruelly, “do you remember meeting me? Do you remember Lord Rei, that your father brought a tithe for? He’s very impressive, isn’t he? In fact, he’s looking for your precious Lily _right now_ , and no one can stop him, not even bad men.”

 

Tears streaming down her face, Selmy slowly nods, sucking in a hiccuping breath. “H-he was nice,” she whispers. “I t-thought he’d be mean. ’N scary. But he was nice.”

 

“He sent us both to look for you,” Mika quietly tells her. “So that we could bring you home safe.”

 

“And we will,” Shu assures her. “You, and all the others that were taken. That’s the only reason we’re in the Sandlands. You know when adults are lying to you, don’t you? You’re a smart girl.”

 

She nods again, stuffing her face back down into Mika’s shoulder. “Th…the lady that came to get us,” she quietly begins again. “She was from here.”

 

Mika exhales a slow breath as he pets a hand over her hair. “They send women for foreign kids a lot of the time, because north of here…well, everyone thinks women are sweet and soft, so they trust them,” he wryly says. “Down here, they’re usually just mean.”

 

“She was mean. Real mean.”

 

“I’m sorry, Selmy. We’ll make sure she gets in trouble, too.”

 

Selmy huffs and huddles into a little ball, not saying another word.

 

“Her father,” Shu says quietly, still in Common tongue, “is the king’s minister of finance--a position he’s held for years, despite making some very powerful enemies. Selmy, you know your father is very important, right? Did the mean men or the woman say anything about him?” _Is this political? Or is this just a matter of a big fish caught in the net set for minnows?_

 

Selmy stays silent for a moment, then quietly says, “Nothing about my daddy…but lots of mean things. About His Majesty.”

 

Mika grimaces at that, giving her a soft squeeze. “You’re being really helpful,” he says, and leans back, reaching over to his bedside table to pat a hand around until he finds a set-aside hard candy. “Did they ever call each other by their names?”

 

She takes the candy immediately, popping it into her mouth as she thinks. “The mean man never said their names,” she says. “But the lady…it…I think it was like…Aida? But I dunno…she was scary, so I didn’t wanna listen…”

 

It’s a common name in the Sandlands, but it makes Mika’s heart thump fast for a moment all the same. “That’s okay, that’s still good,” he says, glancing over to Shu worriedly. “I don’t get it; are they trying to use them as political leverage against the king or something?”

 

“It could be a lot of things,” Shu muses, “but this narrows it down quite a bit. Ah, I need to talk to Rei about this...”

 

He fiddles his fingers nervously for a moment, then turns to Selmy again. “Sorry to ask you for more help when you’re being so brave, but do you want to do a magic charm? To keep the mean man and woman away from you forever?” That isn’t what the magic is going to accomplish, but he’s willing to bend the truth a little for such an important reason.

 

At that, Selmy brightens—as much as one can brighten when tears are still streaming freely down their face. “Will it really keep them away?” she eagerly asks. “I’ll do it, w-whatever it is.”

 

“They’ll never, ever come near you again,” Shu promises, fully prepared to defend that promise to his death. “Close your eyes. Picture them as clearly as you can--all of them, every part, what they were wearing. And when you hear a knock, like the knock on a door? Picture yourself opening that door and showing me the mean people.”

 

This should be _so_ much easier, he shouldn’t need a child’s aid to see her memories, but with most of his magic sealed, he’s limited to mental communication with those he’s touching and simple parlor tricks.

 

Selmy does as she’s told, obediently shutting her eyes as she takes a deep breath. “They’re not…they’re not gonna know I told on them, right?”

 

“Miss Lily is keeping your secrets, remember?” Mika softly reminds her. “You’re safe, we’re making sure.”

 

Selmy nervously nods one more time, and tries to picture the people that stole her away as much as she can. When that knock sounds in her mind, she reaches for the door that appears—and in spite of being scared, opens it.

 

In her mind, it’s four men—all of them looking like they came from anywhere North of the Sandlands, except for one, who could’ve been from the Sandlands or even mixed—and a woman, _definitely_ from the Sandlands. The men are all middle-aged, somewhere around her father’s age, tall and a couple of them bearded, and the woman is smaller, delicately boned and thin, with her long, curly black hair always braided back from her face, a single golden hoop through one nostril. Just picturing them makes her tremble as she remembers their shouting, their rough hands and cruel words, and she burrows back into Mika’s chest, breath hiccuping.

 

The image blazes into Shu’s mind, as clear as a child’s mind can make it, fixed into his own mind now. Eyes clenched shut, he reaches for his chest, and finds a small scroll of blank oiled paper. A whispered spell, and he transfers the images, letting them splash across the page. He turns it, showing Selmy. “See? They’re trapped. They can’t hurt you now. And Miss Lily is going to keep you safe, I’ve put a spell on her. If anyone is ever mean to you, just tell Miss Lily, and she’ll let me know.” It’s true, for what it’s worth, though it’s mostly based on the low-level listening spell he’s placed on the doll.

 

Selmy manages a shaky little nod, grasping for the doll as she curls into a tinier ball. “I’m sleepy,” she whispers, looking up at Mika. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

 

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Mika quietly says, giving her hair a gentle mussing. “Crawl up into the sheets, then, and I’ll tuck you in. You don’t mind sharing with your new friends when they’re done with their bath, do you?”

 

She shakes her head before moving to do as she’s asked, flattening herself down into the mattress before Mika piles a blanket around her. Barely a minute later, she’s practically unconscious, mouth slack, her hands clutching at the doll in her sleep. “Can you show them to me?” he worriedly asks, scooting close to Shu once more. “They just look like blurry little blobs with my eyes like they are…”

 

“Do you need them bigger? Or--no, I’m being foolish, use my eyes.” Magic has always been a thousand times easier to do with Mika, for what Shu feels are obvious reasons. He reaches out a hand, taking Mika’s, and looks down at the page, letting Mika into his mind.

 

Mika barely takes a glance through Shu’s eyes, and jerks his hand back as if he’s been burned. “Right,” he manages, suddenly as white as a sheet. “That’s…I got it, y-you should send that to Rei, so maybe he can…”

 

“All clean,” Hajime softly announces, two of the children in his arms with the other trailing behind him. “Nap time, I think? I see the other little miss is already in bed…ah, Excellency, are you all right?”

 

Mika nods hurriedly, rising from the edge of the bed. “I-I’m fine. Here, I’ll help you put them down, it’s fine if they have my bed, I’ll sleep on the chaise or somethin’…”

 

“No, you’ll sleep with me.” Shu’s voice is firm, and he grabs Mika by the wrist, holding him with all the strength he doesn’t usually show. “You’ll stay here tonight, and in the morning, we’ll deal with getting these children to safety. Hajime, you need to get a message to Rei’s men in the city. I assume you’re in contact.”

 

“Y-yes?” Hajime quickly helps the children into bed, where they basically pile around one another like little kittens. “I can take that now, if that suits you?”

 

Shu nods, pulling out a quill and sketching a quick, coded message. “Take this, it _must_ go to Rei as quickly as possible. And let them know that I’m requesting an urgent reply, so if you have any thought of dawdling...no, you wouldn’t, would you? Ah, you’re a work of art, your face is so lovely...” He trails off, distracted, and shoves the letter into Hajime’s hand. “Go, there’s no time.”

 

Hajime, flushed and not _entirely_ understanding Shu’s train of thought, bows deeply all the same, tucking the letter into the breast of his tunic. “I’ll be back as soon as I’m able, Excellency,” he says, and quickly leaves, the curtain swinging shut behind him.

 

“L…let me go.” Mika’s voice is small, and decidedly nervous. “I still have to meet with Adonis tonight.”

 

“You were in my mind,” Shu says quietly. “I know what you were thinking. I...I know it’s her.”

 

“No. I mean, I might be wrong, I…” Mika sucks in a shuddering breath. “W…what do I do? I thought…” _I thought she was dead, she’s supposed to be, how could she be alive?_

 

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never see her.” Shu squeezes Mika’s hand in both of his. “Shall I give you a Miss Lily of your own?”

 

Mika shakes his head, looking aside, bringing a hand to his mouth to chew on a painted nail before he thinks it through. “No. No, I…w-what if she’s here, doing dealings directly with the palace? Those men, they look like they could be anyone from the capital—gods, she’s been in the _capital_ , I’m gonna be sick.”

 

Shu looks at Mika, frowning slightly. Then, slowly, he shakes his head. “That’s enough. We’ve found out more than expected, we’ll leave at first light. There’s no reason for you to stay in this situation. Don’t argue, I’m pulling rank.”

 

Mika almost relents, almost agrees, because the idea of staying when something—some _one_ so daunting, so terrifying looms on the horizon makes him nearly shake harder than Selmy had been moments prior. “I can’t _leave_ , we _jus’_ started making progress,” he whispers, looking down at his trembling fingers. “I have to stay. Please, Master, please. If…if she’s part of th’ reason it’s like this, then I have to do something to stop it. I _have_ to.”

 

Shu’s hands grip Mika’s more tightly, and fire blazes behind his eyes. “You didn’t cause _any_ of this,” he hisses fiercely. “You’re not responsible for any of it-- _none_. You’ve done _more_ than your share, and you’re going home in the morning. This is not your fight. Leave it to the people who want to rule this land, hmm?”

 

“But this is _my_ country!” The words make a sob well up into his chest, and Mika jerks back against Shu’s hold, no matter that it does nothing to dislodge it. “I c-can’t jus’ expect it to get better if I’m doing nothing! And if s-she’s still here, doing stuff like this, I can’t…I can’t let her, I _can’t_. These kids—if…if this keeps goin’, it could be anyone, Izumin’s kids even, and if I could’ve done something to stop that and I just ran away…”

 

“And if you stay and get yourself killed?” Shu asks, grabbing Mika’s shoulders, trying not to hurt him but unable to let go. “What good will you be to anyone’s children then? If you could have saved a hundred, a thousand--but you were too stubborn to save yourself first? What--what about _me_ , Mika? If anything happened to you--” Shu chokes off the rest of what he would have said, blinking rapidly, eyes stinging.

 

Mika huffs out a hot, wet breath, and he lurches forward head thunking against Shu’s shoulder. “Nothin’s gonna happen to me,” he whispers, saying it as much to convince himself as he is Shu. “Master, please. Jus’…just let me stay ‘till the end of the week. If I can’t help with anything else by then, then I’ll go, but…”

 

“It’s too risky.” Shu strokes Mika’s hair, feeling his fingers glide smoothly through the combed, gleaming strands. “I hate her for putting you in--well, no, if I’m going to hate her for something, it’s going back much farther than that, but currently...”

 

He strokes, and holds, and tries not to feel as though his soul is being torn in two. “Three days,” he says finally. “Do not argue, I won’t hear it. Argue and I’ll throw you on a horse right now, you know I can.”

 

Mika exhales a quiet, unhappy noise, and rubs his face pointedly into Shu’s shoulder. “Three days,” he agrees, curling his fingers against Shu’s back. “Then…then if nothin’ changes, I’ll go. But if it’s something I gotta stay to help with, I’m not leaving in the middle of it, I can’t.”

 

“Then you’d best finish it in three days.” Shu’s voice is stern, but his hands are gentle, softly stroking Mika’s hair, his shoulders, finding every knot of tension and easing it with the skill of long practice. “Now, go meet with Adonis. I’ve got a few meetings of my own tonight. And don’t worry, I’ll spell the room shut when I leave.”

 

Mika’s lips purse at that, wanting to argue again but unable to find the strength. So he huffs instead, pulling back with a little nod. “I don’t look bad, do I? I miss when bein’ a whore was just that and all I had to do was be naked all the time…”

 

Shu snorts. “You look perfect. As if I’d let you look any other way. And honestly, are you telling me you’d prefer it if this prince were determined to throw you over every reasonably flat surface?”

 

“Kinda, yeah. He’d be easier to deal with.” Mika pauses, and adds, rather sulkily, “And no one’s ever told me they didn’t wanna have sex with me before, but he did.”

 

“Liar. I told you that, when you were twelve.”

 

“Yeah, but you didn’t _mean it._ ”

 

Shu scowls. “Leave before you get a spanking.”

 

It would be _very_ easy to change his mind immediately and just stay here until morning when they can leave this all behind. That’s what Shu wants from him, and a huge part of Mika _does_ just want to run away from this and go back to hiding in the capital, or the west, or the north, wherever he’s dragged to at any given point.

 

One last, blurry glance to the bed and the four children curled up there, however, silences that thought, and Mika sucks in a steadying breath. “Hopefully, I’ll be back soon,” he says, and quickly makes his way out of the room.

 

At least he isn’t hassled on his way to the now-familiar courtyard, and Mika can spot Adonis’s particular foggy silhouette less from appearance, more from the way he holds himself, and the oils that he wears most of all. He bows his head immediately, unsure of who might be watching. “Your Highness wished to see me?”

 

Adonis nods, and looks around, seeing if they’re alone. “Do you want to walk through the courtyard when we talk? I find it more pleasant to move while I speak.”

 

Mika nods, reaching out instinctively to take Adonis’s arm. “If that’s what His Highness wishes.”

 

_What would he think of her being involved in this?_

 

The thought makes a tremor go down Mika’s spine, and his fingers grip tightly for a moment. “Your new slaves are settling in—my apologies it took so long to answer your summons.”

 

Adonis nods, though his eyes crease in pain when Mika mentions _slaves_. He’s never quite managed to hide his feelings about the practice, despite mockery and “education” from his siblings and tutors about the natural way of the world. “It’s all right. Here, I brought you meat.” He pulls out a paper-wrapped package of fragrant, grilled beef, offering it.

 

Mika’s stomach gives an unpleasant churn, and he turns his face away, trying not to look as sick as he feels. “I’m really fine, Highness,” he says dismissively. “I’d rather just talk instead of eat, thank you.”

 

Adonis frowns, and unwraps the beef further, holding it closer to Mika’s face. “You haven’t eaten today,” he says disapprovingly. “Take just one strip. It’s good for you.”

 

Irritation compounding stress makes Mika’s temper flare more than he’d like. Unthinking, he releases Adonis’s arm to slap his hand away. “Stop trying to force me to eat. I’ll eat when I’m hungry and that’s not right now. Can we please just walk and discuss what needs to be discussed so I can go take care of those children? That’s much more important.”

 

A screech of aghast disbelief sounds from behind them, and Adonis’s face goes suddenly pale. “No,” he whispers, obviously shaken, turning to see the approaching storm that is his second-oldest sister.

 

She’s an enormous woman, broad-shouldered with visibly muscled arms, and her face is twisted into a mask of horror and fury. She strides fast on long legs, grabbing Mika by the hair and throwing him to the ground. “Insolent wretch,” she snarls, attracting the attention of everyone nearby, as all conversations in the sparse courtyard fall silent. “You _dare_ to strike a _prince_? Filthy _mongrel_!” she punctuates her words with kicks, driving her booted foot into Mika’s sides and back.

 

Adonis grabs her arm. “Sister, please--”

 

Her backhand is swift, cracking across his face and sending him to the ground. “And you--letting a _slave_ act your master in public? Soiling your family name?” She snaps, and a slave appears at her side, instantly kneeling next to her hand. “Fetch Lady Wynne. I’ll need her approval for this execution.”

 

Chest heaving, Mika stays otherwise still, knowing better than to beg, or to even as much as lift his face. _To be fair, I deserved that_ , a reflexive, quiet part of his brain tells him, while the rest is a roaring, hissing, hazy mess, making his vision cloud more than even now as he tastes blood on his tongue. His nails scrape against the courtyard stone slowly as he curls into a tinier ball, feeling the far steadier leak of his magic around the confines of its seal. That’s far more painful than throbbing bruises and an undoubtedly snapped rib, and it makes him tremble. _Not now, not now, not now._

 

“ _This_ sort of behavior soils your family name, considering I was promised a sweet, yet strong-willed lovely Southern lady of noble birth. I’ve met a few of them, but then there’s you, _Princess_.”

 

The voice is high and soft, yet excruciatingly condescending in brusque, masculine Sandtongue with scarcely a hint of an accent, and Mika’s head jerks up in spite of himself to catch a glimpse of who it belongs to. The Master of Coin, Nazuna of the Nito household, strides across the courtyard, the tall heels of his boots clicking sharply across stone. “Having this sort of display be a public matter for your guests to see is unsightly,” he snaps, fearlessly glaring up at Adonis’s sister. “But more than that, you’d execute a slave I personally received a commission from the purchase of?”

 

Hestea, second daughter of the Sandlands, looks down, and down, chest heaving as she meets those fierce red eyes. The anger drains from her, and she steps back, pretending at demure graces, giving a deep, rather belated curtsy. “Coinmaster,” she breathes, aiming for coquettish and missing entirely. “I meant no disrespect to your house, of course, but the wretch dared to _strike_ my beloved brother...”

 

“You are mistaken, Sister.” Adonis’s voice is quiet and shaken. His cheek throbs painfully, but he ignores it, kneeling next to Mika, then lifting him off the ground. “He didn’t strike me. I tried to tell you.”

 

Mika immediately latches onto Adonis’s neck, face buried into his shoulder, shaking as if he’s been dunked into the North’s coldest lakes. Nazuna’s stare is unimpressed, arms folded across his chest as he watches Hestea’s belated curtsy with disdain.

 

“The assumption your ‘beloved brother’ can’t handle his own slaves is insulting at best. Are you looking down on me? _This_ is the sort of disrespectful behavior your father expects me to marry? I’ll have an audience with him now, if necessary.” 

 

Hestea throws herself to the ground, grabbing one of his boots, all thoughts of decorum gone. “Coinmaster, please! Allow my miserable self to make it up to you--I beg of you--inspire me with your mercy, please!”

 

Nazuna’s eyes roll visibly, and he shakes her off his leg with a huff of breath, trying not to look as if the sheer act of her grabbing him is enough to knock him over. “Enough, enough, stop _begging_ , have some class, woman. Get out of my sight, I won’t speak to your father. _This_ time.”

 

“Thank you, Coinmaster, thank you!”

 

Hestea, not wanting to press her luck, draws herself up and runs from the courtyard, not meeting eyes with anyone. The few spectators, however, quickly find reason to leave, and nearly all of them exit after the direction Hestea had gone, giggling amongst themselves.

 

All, however, except two.

 

In the shadows, an enormous man with red hair stands still, hand over the Toymaker’s mouth, other arm tight as a vice around his waist. He moves as soon as the courtyard is empty, moving to Nazuna’s side, not letting go of Shu. “That was quick thinkin’, Sir,” he tells his boss, looking down at his captive. “Should I let him go?”

 

“I don’t know, is he going to behave himself?” Nazuna snaps in common tongue, whirling around to abruptly face Kuro and Shu both. Setting eyes properly on Shu after so long makes his teeth grit, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. “Let him speak, but don’t let him go,” he settles upon. “What were you going to do? S..set this whole place ablaze?”

 

The second Kuro’s enormous hand leaves Shu’s mouth, he lets out a sob, struggling forward, trying to get to Mika. “I won’t forgive you for this--is he breathing? He’s got to be--”

 

“Won’ forgive him?” Kuro snorts. “He saved your damn fool life an’ ya know it. Stop bein’ that way, he just got kicked a couple o’times, right?”

 

Adonis nods, and turns so that Mika can meet Shu’s grief-stricken, utterly white face. “Coinmaster, that was very quick thinking. I owe you a debt.”

 

“Give him a sliver of credit, you—you _idiot_ , he’s obviously tougher than he looks,” Nazuna hisses at Shu, looking aside in pure, unadulterated irritation.

 

Mika lifts his face shakily, unwinding an arm from Adonis’s neck to stretch his hand out towards Shu. “I’m okay,” he softly says. “R-really, Master, I’m…I’m okay.”

 

“See? He’s fine, just a little bruised up. Let him handle himself, he knew how to best deal with that bitch—which is to say to keep his damned mouth shut,” Nazuna crossly says. “You butting in, what would that have done but riled everyone up? You could’ve gotten him killed, yourself included.”

 

“This ain’t the place for this,” Kuro grunts. “By your leave, Sir. We shouldn’t even all be meeting in public.”

 

“You’re right, but I don’t trust him not to explode the second you let him go,” Nazuna growls, nose in the air. “Whatever. Bring him to my chambers, I’ll continue scolding him there until he can calm down. If anyone asks why, well, he certainly speaks like a Sandlands whore, my mistake.”

 

“Don’t say things like that about him!” Mika suddenly, vehemently protests, squirming in Adonis’s arms and regretting it immediately with a gasp of pain.

 

Nazuna pauses as if he’s going to say something else particularly biting, then huffs, turning on his heel to stalk off when he decides it’s not worth it.

 

“Well. That makes my job easier,” Kuro says with a shrug, tossing Shu’s limp body over his shoulder. He bows to Adonis, who walks in front of him, totally unaware of what is going on.

 

“These men are friends of yours?” Adonis asks Mika quietly, following the clack of Nazuna’s heels.

 

Mika hesitates, his fingers curling against the back of Adonis’s neck. “The really big one is Kuro, he…he works with a friend of mine,” he quietly answers in Sandtongue. “And the blonde one, he’s…I don’t know him that well, but he and my master, they have some history together. I’m surprised he stepped in—they don’t…really get along…”

 

“In,” Nazuna orders once they reach his quarters, his toe tapping impatiently until they all file inside, and he yanks the door shut. “Throw him on the bed, Kuro, dump some cold water on him to snap him out of it.”

 

“Be nice to him!” Mika protests again, twisting in Adonis’s arms in spite of the spike of pain that makes him breathe in sharply. “He—he didn’t do anythin’ wrong, I’m the one that screwed up, it’s my fault…”

 

“Ya didn’t see what he was ‘bout to do,” Kuro growls, setting Shu on the bed hard enough that his head bounces a little, but hardly ‘throwing’ him. “We was talkin’. Then he screamed, b’fore you even did, and ran out here, I barely caught him. Popped his damn seal off, so, nah, we can’t wait for him to wake up.”

 

He grabs a bucket of icewater from the corner, where it’s currently at work chilling a bottle of champagne, and splashes it down over Shu’s face. Shu gasps, sputtering, and immediately blinks his eyes open. “Mika? Where’s--”

 

“Here, I’m here, Master—Adonis, put me down, I’m okay, I swear!”

 

“You get put down _after_ he seals himself again and isn’t thinking about leveling this place to the ground,” Nazuna snaps, standing between the two of them as his gaze whips over to Shu again. “Go on. He’s safe, you can see that.”

 

Shu meets Nazuna’s eyes for a pain-filled second, then shuts them. A moment later, the tension in the room eases palpably as his seals click into place, and he shudders. “That was...not my finest moment,” he mutters.

 

Adonis sets Mika down on the bed. “There, you’re free.”

 

Immediately, Shu stars touching Mika all over, tears in his eyes, lips trembling. “You idiot, you utterly useless fool, what did I ever do in my life to be saddled with such a failure, are you _all right?_ ”

 

Mika’s own lower lip wobbles as he nods frantically, throwing himself into Shu’s arms in spite of how that makes a little pained, hiccuping gasp escape him. “I-it was my fault,” he miserably says, clinging to Shu’s shoulders, face buried into his neck. “S-sorry, I’m sooorry…”

 

“God, they’re meant for one another,” Nazuna irritably mutters, looking away and over to Adonis with a frown. “We’ve barely had a chance to speak,” he says in Sandtongue. “ButI guess now is as good a time as any, Your Highness. Pleased to meet you, your sisters are terrible.”

 

Adonis nods. “If you think that, then you are welcome here. I agree. Thank you for intervening in my stupid mistake. I hope you will not feel the need to marry my sister.”

 

Shu’s words have devolved into nonsense at this point, all whispered into Mika’s hair.

 

“I don’t, but I’ll continue to lead her on as long as I feel necessary. I think we’re all here for the same reason—the slave trade.” Nazuna pauses, glancing back over to Mika and Shu, then sighs, looking away again. “While they’re being useless, I’ll just tell you. Your father wants me on as his primary financial advisor for the trade that he’s running right through their palace. Seems to think I’ll bring in investors from the capital. Apparently, your sister’s husband isn’t bringing in as many as he promised.”

 

Adonis nods slowly. “Then perhaps there is hope for my country yet,” he says softly. “I do not want to believe that all the people are willing to exploit the weak. Forgive me for asking, but who do you swear loyalty to?”

 

“Money,” Kuro says with a snort. He settles on a sturdy stool near the bed, and pulls out his knife, sharpening it carefully on a whetstone.

 

“Rude, that’s rude,” Nazuna snaps, folding his arms as he glowers at Kuro for a hot second. “But not incorrect. Don’t worry, Prince. Your family can’t outbid the capital’s crown. Also, I have connections with the Kingsguard—beyond this brute here—that I’m fond of.” He pauses, then adds, “Unfortunately, it’s less a matter of not being able to find people willing to exploit everyone else, and more the border control stopping them in their tracks. The trade is trying to go far north these days, and transport is expensive if it’s done right. That’s why your family wants me.”

 

“North?” Adonis frowns. “I didn’t know the North was involved in any part of this...I must rethink some things.”

 

“Not _the North_ ,” Kuro corrects. “North. And East.”

 

“The Hinterlands, if we’re going to be specific. And the Shadowlands, if we’re going to get nitpicky.” Nazuna drops himself down onto the end of the bed, finally giving into how much his feet hurt. “No, _the_ North is unproblematic in this mess. In fact, we’ve got the support of their scion, as much as he can dole it out. He’s on call, so if you need those new slaves you bought today out of here, I can make that happen.”

 

“Please,” Adonis says gratefully. He looks around, then bows his head. “Just let me know where to send them. I want them safe.”

 

Kuro moves, kneeling at Nazuna’s feet, starting to unlace his high-heeled boots. “I’ll escort them to the safe passage myself, you have my word. No one’ll take ‘em from me.”

 

“It might take a day or two to get the transport ready, but if you can hold off until then, I guarantee they’ll be taken to safety.” Nazuna exhales a tiny sigh of relief, but doesn’t move other than to extend one leg at a time for easier boot removal.

 

Mika’s head slowly lifts from Shu’s chest, his face streaked with wet, running kohl. “Did you…did you say that the North’s scion was gonna be in charge of transport?” he hoarsely asks, sniffling. “I wanna see him.”

 

“I doubt he’ll be coming himself,” Nazuna snorts, then he hears the waver in Mika’s breathing before he actually looks at his face, and sighs. “I mean, I _guess_ I can ask him to, but…”

 

“I can get in contact quick,” Kuro assures him, plucking at the laces. “Us Kingsguard got some tricks that we don’t share with the rest of ya.”

 

Adonis nods. “Do you need anything...else from me?” he asks, and at the shake of Kuro’s head, takes his leave, the door shutting quietly behind him.

 

“Bes’ thing I can say for him,” Kuro grunts, moving on to the next boot, “is he’s nothin’ like his family. Oi, Mika, that ain’t reason to hit ‘im, though.”

 

As if on cue, Mika immediately bursts into tears—actual, wracking sobs that he’s obviously been fighting back the entire time Adonis was present. “I d-d-didn’t m-mean to—I’m j-jus’ so _sick_ of this, of all of it, and he w-won’t stop tryin’ to make m-me eat things I h-h-hate and he won’t _listen_ an’—“

 

“You did this,” Nazuna wearily says over Mika’s sobbing, knocking his bare foot against the side of Kuro’s head. “Asshole.”

 

Kuro doesn’t flinch, but stands slowly with the creaking of floorboards, setting Nazuna’s boots to the side. “I’ll go contact my Captain,” he offers. “Unless...” He raises an eyebrow at Mika and Shu, sobbing in each others’ arms, then looks back at Nazuna. “You want me to stay? Or, uh, come with me?”

 

Nazuna turns his head, staring at the sobbing messes on his bed, and heaves a sigh. “What’s the point in trying to have a conversation with that,” he mutters, staring back up at Kuro. “At least they’ll have some peace and quiet in here for a minute. Carry me, my feet hurt.”

 

Kuro scoops him up without question, making a seat of his forearm, leaving the two wizards behind. “You did real good,” he says, so quietly it’s nearly under his breath, once they’re out of earshot. “Even better than I thought you would. Fast damn thinkin’. I’m proud t’be around you.”

 

“Quit it, that’s enough from you,” Nazuna self-consciously grumbles, shoving half-heartedly at Kuro’s chest. “I’m just glad I didn’t start stuttering like a moron. I guess if I’m trying to keep us all from being blown up, my tongue actually works.”

 

“It works plenty at other times, too.” Kuro says the words innocently, looking as if he’s talking about something totally apart from anything that would make someone blush. “That’s twice that guy’s almost blown me up.”

 

Nazuna scowls, but otherwise doesn’t deign the former statement with a response. “I want to tell him off more, but all he’ll do is cry.” His lips purse, and he adds moodily, “He can’t even look at me. How’s he supposed to keep that little…whatever of his safe if he can’t even look at me? Idiot.”

 

“If anythin’,” Kuro grunts, heading out of the Palace and towards the nearby guardspost, “looks like Mika’s the one takin’ care of _him_. Not surprised, that guy’s always been too delicate. Dunno why he’s even here.”

 

“To cry. Always, just to cry. Can I send him back with Izumi, too?”

 

Kuro shrugs. “Doubt either of ‘em will wanna stay much after that. I’ll recommend to Izumi that he take ‘em both back, doubt they’ll fight it.”

 

“Good. The idea of having to work around two riled up, nervous wizards makes me want to scream,” Nazuna mutters. “They’re lucky I was around. And now Mika’s got a target on his back—that wretch they want me to marry isn’t going to forget this and she’s not going to let it go.”

 

“She don’t seem like the type t’forgive an’ forget,” Kuro agrees. “An’ she might try an’ do more ‘favors’ for ya, t’convince ya to marry her. Tha’s just no good.”

 

“You look like you’re going to start laughing. Don’t. I don’t want to remember the last time she tried to corner me while on her knees.”

 

“I’m not laughing.” And he isn’t, mouth set grimly. “I’d rather eat glass than see ya with a woman like that. She’s rotten inside, there ain’t nothin’ good about the way she treats people.”

 

“All of those sisters are. Disgusting, every last one of them. Don’t worry, there’s no sum they could pay me to get me to marry her at this point.” Nazuna’s mouth twists. “I’ll see Hajime sent home as well. Having him caught up in this…it’s not right.”

 

“He’s too small,” Kuro agrees. “Damned if I wanna send him back t’where folks’re gonna send him into stuff like this. Maybe I’ll just bring him home to Kallie, let her fatten him up a bit. She could use another houseboy.”

 

“He came at Rei’s request, that damned barbarian. I’ll tell him off later, and make sure Hajime can stay in High Harbor with his…whatever that boy is to him.” Nazuna shifts grumpily. “Wizards, actually, are the problem.”

 

“Stick to half-breeds,” Kuro advises. “Me and Izumi are way more reliable, and harder t’kill, too. Ya might not get rid of us, though...”

 

“That’s fine, I can keep you both in line,” Nazuna sniffs. “He fits in a bag, and you—well, whatever, you do what I say. Unlike wizards, they’re all awful, high strung, and fairly useless.”

 

Kuro pats Nazuna’s shoulder with his free hand. “I wonder how many bags I’d need for all of ‘em? Ah, here’s the guardspost, you gotta wait outside.”

 

“Some. There are too many wizards. And to hell with you, I pay you enough that you should let me in on these Kingsguard secrets.”

 

Kuro snorts. “That ain’t how moonlightin’ works. Ya know what my first loyalty is.” But that line is accompanied with a slow wink, as Kuro sets Nazuna gently down on a stone bench just outside the guardspost. “Be out in a minute.”

 

“You’re an ass,” Nazuna bluntly informs him and sits primly, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Take too long and I’ll dock your so-called moonlighting pay.”

 

“Do that and I’ll take it out of your hide later,” Kuro teases, and lumbers into the guardspost. Sure enough, just two minutes later, he exits, chewing. “He’s on his way,” he confirms, swallowing and popping another piece of bread in his mouth, pilfered from the huge ovens feeding the guards. “Day and a half, he says. He’ll meet us at the safe house at dusk.”

 

“Did you warn him you’re shoving more than children at him?” Nazuna presses, frowning up at him. “He better be equipped to deal with those lunatics.”

 

Kuro snorts. “I didn’ expect him to juggle ‘em the whole way home. Sure I told him, he’s bringin’ a second horse or a cart or somethin’.” He scoops Nazuna up again, and raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Command yer chariot. Where to, Sir?”

 

Nazuna exhales a low, grumpy sound as he lists to the side, flopping into Kuro’s chest. “Part of me wants to go back in there and try to talk to him before we avoid one another for another ten years,” he mumbles. “Another part of me wants to say ‘to hell with it’ and go make money off of greedy Sandlands nobles instead. Thoughts?”

 

“Talk,” Kuro says instantly. “He’s a bastard and a pain, but he’s a good man. An’ tryin’ t’be better, which is less than I can say for a lot of folks.”

 

“If he just starts crying again, I’m _going_ to leave.”

 

“If that’s yer plan, ya might as well not bother and ya know it.”

 

“To hell with you, you’re just a chariot. Take me back and don’t you dare get bread crumbs on me.”


	32. Chapter 32

Izumi makes the executive decision to _not_ exactly tell Leo why he’s heading West in a hurry.

 

Telling him runs the risk of Leo wanting to come and bring Mika’s _gift_ with him. One, he’s not interested in dealing with that while trying to travel. Two, he hasn’t mentioned it to Arashi yet, and doesn’t want to die by his best friend’s hand.

 

The West is less than welcoming to him, for whatever reason. Arriving at Arashi’s estate seems to reveal less about impending weddings and more about stress, and requesting an audience with Arashi himself grants him more than a few dark looks. _Fucking why, it’s not like I’m trying to steal him away permanently,_ Izumi grumpily thinks, and being told to wait outside of Arashi’s audience hall is enough to make him roll his eyes to the advisor. Who cares if they think he’s rude, at this point?

 

When the doors open, Arashi’s eyes light up, and he immediately ushers everyone else out. The second the doors close, he grabs Izumi in a hug right in the middle of the council chamber, so tight he hears bones creak. “I can’t believe you got my message so fast, I swear I only sent that boy an hour ago--ugh, obviously I’m losing track of time with all this stupid stress...are you here to rescue me?”

 

“How sure are you that we don’t have a soul bond after all?” Izumi wheezes, lifted clear off the ground for a moment when Arashi hugs him. He pats Arashi’s back, eventually rocking back onto his heels. “Too much, too much—I didn’t get your message, but I’ve got my own plans. We’re going south, and yeah, I’m rescuing your dumb ass.”

 

“My bride disappeared,” Arashi tells him, sounding far less distraught than he probably should, but honestly, it’s not like he’s ever met the girl. “The first one died, so they apparently got me a replacement, and then she ran away--but the contract is still valid, so until they find her, _I can’t marry anyone_.” His eyes sparkle, and he grabs Izumi’s hands. “Let’s go, before they find her. I get to be in mourning for my poor lost love what’s-her-name for a couple weeks out of respect.”

 

Izumi blinks a few times, then shrugs, reversing Arashi’s grip to drag him swiftly out of the council room. “That’s so convenient—finally, _something_ is, of course it’s got to be a dead fiance. I mean, uh, greatest sympathies for your dead wife-to-be and your missing one,” he says when some old advisor shoots him a glare out of the corner of his eye as he pulls Arashi down the hall. “So, back to business, some briefing. We’re going to the Sandlands.”

 

“Oooh, are we going to see Mika?” Arashi’s step quickens, as if he’s going to run the whole way there. “Is everything all right with him?”

 

“Yeah.” Kuro’s firm, urgent request says otherwise, but there’s not much good that’ll come out of Arashi thinking about that. “But they’ve apparently made enough of a breakthrough in the whole mess that he can leave. We’re pulling him and Shu out, and some of the kids he found. Apparently, one of them’s one of the missing noble girls.”

 

Arashi sucks in a breath. “Which one? Ugh, if it’s not Lord Asheby’s daughter, he’s going to be all over me even more than he already is.”

 

Izumi slows a step, his eyebrows raising. “Do I need to speak with him? It’s Lord Barstian’s daughter, apparently. I don’t know the full extent of how many kids he’s found since then, though, if any.”

 

Arashi waves a hand. “Nothing you can do, he just wants to remind me every five minutes or so that he was the first one to endorse me for High Lord ten years ago, and letting his daughter be tortured or whatever is a pretty bad way to repay him. Plus, he keeps _crying_ , and it makes me feel so uncomfortable...”

 

“Then let’s get far away from that mess, because there’s nothing you can do about it that you aren’t already doing. Captain Subaru’s going to meet us half-way to presumably finally wed his beloved, I guess.” Izumi hesitates, then lowly adds, “Kuro warned me there’s a pretty heavy presence of traitors against the crown down there, so that can mean basically anything. I’m hoping we won’t have to venture that close to the thick of it, but if for some reason we do—well, ready to be a hero again for slaying a bunch of runaway criminals?”

 

Arashi, in answer, just thumbs the hilt of his sword. “Been a while since I used this against a human,” he says softly. “I can’t say I’ve missed it...but I’m not afraid to be your shining hero again, either.”

 

Izumi snorts, but pointedly doesn’t look at him. “Don’t be disgusting. Save that kind of talk for Mika. Oh, by the way.” From the inside of his breast pocket, he pulls free a tiny lapel pin—the Kingsguard emblem, crossed swords embossed in bright gold—and presses it into Arashi’s palm. “This is official Kingsguard business, so you’ve got to play the part, Vice Captain. Otherwise, you can’t come along.”

 

Arashi takes the pin, then hesitates. “This isn’t a trick, right? Is there some obscure law that if I put this on, I have to do whatever you want and leave my dominance behind?”

 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I could get the king to put that into law, if you want,” Izumi says with a roll of his eyes. “But no, it’s not like that, no matter how much I deserve to have you at my beck and call.”

 

Arashi rolls his eyes. “If anything, you should leave the Kingsguard and work for me,” he declares, sticking the pin through his shirt, being careful not to snag any threads. “I mean, don’t, someone’s gotta keep his Majesty alive, but...ahhh, it’s a nice thought...hey, who’s keeping His Majesty alive if both you and your Vice-Captain are away?”

 

“Kasa. And he’s hating every second of it, which I think is sort of hilarious.” Izumi tries not to slide an admiring glance over Arashi—it’s just a pin, damn it, it’s not like it _means_ anything or takes him back to a muggy night in the Sandlands when Arashi had declared he was going to hold that position one day. “Anyway. Let’s get you packed up and get out of here, your estate’s full of grouchy old men and I’m not here for it.”

 

Arashi pouts a little. “But I want to strut around and show off my new jewelry,” he protests, fingering the pin a little. “But you’re right, they’ll take any opportunity to talk about how bad I am at my job...did you bring Vale, or your demon horse?”

 

“If I was going to buy you jewelry, it’d be diamonds, not a scuffed up piece of gold,” Izumi mutters. “Unfortunately, I brought the demon horse. Apparently, they don’t have to eat for up to a week. _Or_ drink. Also, what the hell, you’re fine at your job.”

 

Arashi flutters an airy hand, hopefully belying the storm of emotions that’s been threatening to take him over for the last few weeks. “It’s fine. I mean, hopefully, someone will either show up that’s better than me at this, or they’ll just kill me in my sleep, but it’s fine.”

 

Izumi stares at him for a moment, pauses, and gives up after a brisk glance around, yanking Arashi to an abrupt stop, then down into a hard kiss. “Fuck your whole country, actually,” he flatly says. “If they don’t shape up and treat you right, I’m making the king sign that law into reality and not letting you leave my side.”

 

Much to Arashi’s surprise, his lower lip quivers at that, tears stinging his eyes. He wipes them quickly, embarrassed, and strides briskly towards the stables. “So dashing,” he murmurs, blinking rapidly. “Stop, it, you’ll make me want to agree. And if I do, you’d _better_ make me one out of diamonds.”

 

Following after him, Izumi tries not to be smug and preen visibly, but so help him, he _does_ enjoy a chance to take Arashi off-guard once in awhile. “Obviously, you idiot. You say that as if I haven’t thought it out already. Diamond and amethyst, so it’d match your eyes.”

 

“Dammit, you’re going to make me trip--if you don’t stop being so sweet, I’m going to throw you in the trough!” Arashi’s voice is nearly a shriek, and he grabs his horse immediately, burying his face in her mane. “You’ll protect me, won’t you? He’s being a _terrible_ brute, trying to seduce me away from my dominance...”

 

Izumi laughs, and lightly smacks his own mare on the nose when she immediately swings her head over her stall door to try and take a hunk out of him. “If I was _trying_ to seduce you, you’d be my wife by now,” he snidely teases. “This is just what I’m like when I think you’re being treated like shit.”

 

“But you’re making me think about what it would be like,” Arashi whines, saddling Neigh in record time, then mounting quickly. “I just want to fight things and protect people, and to get told I’m pretty, you know? I was too good at it, and now I’ve got a job I didn’t ask for, but no one else can do it better.”

 

“At the risk of sounding like a complete ass, you’re not a noble. You’re not _obligated_ to stay here.”

 

Izumi bridles his horse again before hauling himself into the saddle, ignoring the irritated way she tosses her head and tries to lunge forward and take a bite out of Neigh’s tail. “Keep telling me about how you hate this, and I _am_ going to insist you come to the capital with me. I’ve got other reasons, but I’m not saying them until we’re on the road proper. Everyone here is fucking nosy.”

 

“Of course, darling. Where do you think I learned it?” Arashi asks archly, throwing the stable door open and leading the way down the main road. “Think your demon can catch me?”

 

“I’ve been waiting to test her against a proper lady for awhile.” Izumi kicks her forward, giving Arashi a quick bat of his lashes before his horse is gone, bolting ahead. “Catch up when you can, _Vice-Captain._ ”

 

A challenge spurs Arashi forward like nothing else could, and he and Neigh leap forward, streaking down the road as fast as anyone has ever seen a courier move. He moves with the horse as if they’re one being, tucked down low over her neck, rocking with her into every smooth motion of her fastest gallop. “To the treeline!” he shouts, demarcating the race, but he never once looks over at Izumi, never focuses on anything besides the wind, the road, and the horse between his thighs.

 

The head start is fortunate, though Izumi doesn’t exactly keep track of where Arashi is. He leaves that to his horse, who obviously watches Neigh out of the corner of her eye, and with every stride that Neigh gains on them until pulling even, she stays scarcely a centimeter ahead, then only a head bob ahead, with her hooves scarcely making a sound across the beaten earth.

 

Izumi’s never particularly _liked_ racers. A Shadowland horse isn’t exactly the same in build as the skinny ones from the Capital, being much taller and broader, and she somehow moves even faster, with a long stride that makes even Izumi find it hard to catch his breath. The treeline comes up and then is passed, and, well—who wins is something either them can guess, especially when _his_ mare refuses to let up. “Holy shit,” he pants out, looking decidedly windswept when he _finally_ convinces the creature to slow down, albeit with an angry toss of her head and wild eyes. “Vale’s never come close to keeping up—you know what, I think I’m sweating more than she is, fuck.”

 

Arashi grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, mopping his face and neck. “If you breed her to any of Vale’s kin,” he says, breath fast, eyes alight, “I’ll literally, _literally_ pay you the foal’s weight in gold. Ahhhh, I want to do that again, that’s the most fun I’ve had in _months_.”

 

“Let me catch my breath, you fucking lunatic,” Izumi groans, his mare spinning restlessly in place, obviously as eager as Arashi. “I’ll think about breeding her once she’s got a proper name she answers to. Ritsu just calls her ‘Bitch’, which even I think is classless. Ugh, I _hate_ riding a mare, it’s just so…” 

 

“You’ll like it when the war starts again.” Arashi’s face settles into something more grim, that shadow passing over his features once more. “Did I tell you? The one spy I managed to get completely over the sharps says we’re going to see the biggest influx of Inglings possibly ever. They’re on the way.”

 

“Mm. Yeah, Leo’s got some plans about that, by the way.” Izumi rakes his bangs back from his face, exhaling a hot breath. His mare fidgets in place, but starts to calm, no matter her grumbling noises. “He’s pretty intent on sending some wizards up here to blow all of that up once and for all, or something like it. I mean, sounds good to me, but I think we both know which wizards he’d be sending.”

 

Arashi’s jaw sets. “That’s...concerning,” he finally manages. “Though they’ve worked well with me in the past. And there really isn’t anyone else I’d trust.”

 

“Which brings me to the question I’ve wanted to ask for awhile now, and just remembered, because it’s about to be a serious issue.” Izumi leans back in his saddle as he nudges his horse forward, coaxing her to walk, not _run._ “If you’re staying here and getting married—hypothetically, as far as I’m concerned—what’s your plan with Mika?”

 

That draws a groan from Arashi, and he runs a hand back through sweat-damp hair. “I...I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’ve never really had a plan--you know, it’s not like we ever thought it would be possible, you know? Then when the rules changed...” He shrugs helplessly. “He’s still a wizard. And I honestly think, when it comes down to it...that I’ll never be as important to him as his Master is.”

 

“He’s just clingy. And codependent. They’re both like that with one another, probably because they’re both so odd.” Izumi exhales a slow breath. “It’s not like you’re any less important, though. At least, that’s what I think, as someone looking in. But uh—because of that, I can’t imagine him taking this marriage crap well. He’s a really jealous person.”

 

Arashi snorts. “He shares you and his Master just fine. And he _knows_ I don’t want a woman in my life, it’s not like he’s unreasonable enough to be angry at me for that.”

 

“Arashi. Listen to yourself and think about Mika for five seconds. He gets cranky when I take up more than my allotted space in the bed. He might not be _angry_ about it, but…you know how he gets, better than me.” Izumi shakes his head. “Shu’s a whole other thing, anyway. It’s not like they’re fucking.”

 

“Not for Mika’s lack of trying.” It’s hardly a secret, as far as Arashi’s concerned. “What do _you_ think I should do? You and His Majesty seem to make it work.”

 

Izumi glances skyward briefly, up into the cover of the trees. “We talked about how you feel about your dominance before,” he finally says. “Do you still feel the same way? Or are you like those famous noblemen that adore their lands and the people in them now?”

 

Arashi opens his mouth, then closes it again, determined to give an actual answer instead of lip service. “I hate the office,” he admits. “But I’ve lived there, under a bad lord. And I know how close the Inglings are to wiping us out. And...if I stepped down, and someone unfriendly to the military took over, or just someone who couldn’t authorize absolutely anything at any time exactly the way I want it...”

 

He shakes his head, annoyed with himself. “So I guess I want to be in charge, but not have any of the burdens. Ugh, I’m unreasonable, I know. You can spank me later.”

 

“You’re unreasonable. But what’s more unreasonable is the fact that your people aren’t giving an inch back to you, no matter how much you’ve done for them.” Izumi glances over to him, eyebrows raised. “If you want to be in charge, and you’ve _got_ to have those burdens, then start imposing your own damned rules. The hell do you have to marry someone for? Why can’t you have Mika as your lover? If they bitch and moan, then fuck it. Step down. But chances are, if you keep spending as much time as you do protecting them and bringing money and jobs in to them, they’ll get over it with only some fuss. I know it’s a matter of ‘wanting to establish a line’, but who the fuck cares, really. You’re not a real noble, and countries don’t have to be run by them. Change the rules so you can name an heir and they can get over it.”

 

“I--”

 

Arashi stares at Izumi, and looks at him, _really_ looks.

 

This is a man who’d made a name out of a backwards dairy farm of a dominance, who’d come to the Capital with nothing in his pockets and a hick accent, drawn the ire of every wealthy nobleman, and clawed his determined way to the right hand of the King. This is a man who’s made his own rules every step of the way, and suffered for it, suffered so badly it must have been like hell...and Arashi knows without asking that if it were up to him, Izumi would do it all over again the exact same way.

 

And hasn’t he done the same?

 

Hasn’t he rewritten the rules in the West? Isn’t he the son of a washerwoman and a carpenter, and hasn’t he wrestled with angels and demons? Isn’t he absolutely unafraid of the wizened old bastards quoting regulations at him?

 

He’s never been afraid of them before. So what’s holding him back now?

 

“Oh, gods,” he whispers, realizing the truth. “I’m afraid he’ll say no.”

 

Izumi blinks a couple of times, then snorts out a startled laugh with a tilt of his head. “You _are_ , aren’t you? Good grief, Arashi. The more I think about it—you’ve gone out of your damned way to avoid asking him on _how_ many occasions now? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but take a page out of my book. Keep asking until they get sick of it and just agree.”

 

Arashi laughs, and is almost surprised to hear how wet it sounds. He buries his face in his handkerchief, and nods. “This is really embarrassing, you know. I like to be _very_ cool and in control of myself. Ugh, I’m so _bad_ at this stuff, how the hell did I ever get you two to fall for me?”

 

“I don’t know what you did to woo Mika, but I’ve got a thing for tall, blonde guys in military coats that can kick my ass,” Izumi only half-jokes, passing over his handkerchief as well when he notices how soggy Arashi’s is getting. “You’re fine, I’m not gonna tell anyone that you’re crying over this. For what it’s worth, I can’t imagine he’d say no. He’s…yeah. Arashi, he’s so in love with you.”

 

Arashi snatches Izumi’s handkerchief, stuffing his own back in his bag. “Don’t look at my makeup,” he mutters, wiping gently at his eyes. “You don’t know. He told me he thinks he just gets in the way of us.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Izumi incredulously laughs, rolling his eyes as he sits back. “Then he’s an idiot. You’re both idiots. I’m pretty sure I get in the way of you two.”

 

“I never feel like I get in the way of you two...am I just really egocentric, maybe?” Arashi laughs at himself, shaking his head. “But I do feel like I’m intruding on you and His Majesty. Like I’m drawing your focus away from him.”

 

“That’s not your fault, don’t worry about it.”

 

It’s short and dismissive, and Izumi immediately flips the subject around again. “Mika and I aren’t as close as you two are, there’s no contest. I knew that getting involved. And you and I…mm. Well, like you’ve said before—if we met each other first, it might be different. But I’m the one always proposing to you, not the other way around, and you’re dying to propose to him and you suck at it. His opinions continue to be a mystery until then.”

 

“I’d take you up on it,” Arashi says dryly, “if I didn’t think you’d flounder around for a bit and run right back to His Majesty. Not blaming you, but it’s not like you could leave him.”

 

“Hey, asshole, remember when we were talking about your relationship issues? That was better.”

 

“I’m going to change the subject _again_ ,” Arashi counters. “What couldn’t you tell me about the Shadowlands?”

 

Izumi hesitates visibly, and his horse snorts, tossing her head anxiously. “I probably shouldn’t say anything still, because I still don’t know the full extent of it,” he admits. “But I’ve had both Kanata and Ritsu relaying information to me lately, and none of it sounds…pleasant. There’s a lot of bleed over of creatures, demons, whatever you want to call them, from the Shadowlands lately. They’ve come as far as High Harbor, apparently.”

 

Arashi sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That sounds...very much worse than usual...”

 

His mind starts racing, trying to think of where to send his men, how much he needs to requisition, how to properly configure his troops. “What kind of creatures? Are we talking snogs and berserkers, or something....else? Intelligent?”

 

“Intelligent. Nothing intelligent on the level like say, Rei and Ritsu, but I know it’s more than cats with eight legs or something weird like that. It’s why Kanata’s gone and fluttered off into the sea again—Morisawa’s been whining about it for a solid few months now, ugh—because he’s strong enough to keep that mess at bay. Ritsu’s pissed because his brother apparently keeps threatening to send him home to deal with it—and the kicker,” Izumi quickly adds with a pause for breath, “is that it all started because the slave trades opened up in full force at the Hinterlands and the Shadowlands border. If there’s twenty problems, they’re all connected at the end of the day, I guess.”

 

Arashi’s lips purse. “My bride-to-be was from the Hinterlands. Do you think...that had something to do with her disappearance? I got the sense that things were kind of falling apart up there, but...”

 

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “We get attacked so often here, and you never really hear about anywhere else getting the brunt of it...but I remember hearing in history that there’s that group up in the Hinterlands that has some special land grant from the King? Something about protecting us from the Shadowlands?”

 

“It’s too much a coincidence for her disappearance to not be related. The Hinterlands…they’re a mess. The North has always tried to distance itself from them, even though they’ve got a solid monopoly on weapon production. You’ve gotta be pretty bad, to make a bunch of Northerners not want a better slab of metal, honestly.”

 

Izumi sighs, lifting a hand to absently rub at the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off a headache. “The ‘nobles’ there are pretty much secluded from the rest of the country and yes, they do have a special protection from the king. I don’t know if they’re trying to utilize that or _what_ to get around labor violations with the slave trade. I’ve sent spies that way, but that was recent and now I’m here, so I won’t hear back for a bit. Last I heard from Ritsu, Rei went there himself to check on things, and I _think_ Natsume as well, but who the hell knows what’ll come of that weirdo.”

 

“You don’t think...anything has happened with them?” Arashi’s voice is worried, but also curious, not verging into panicked yet by sheer force of will. “Has anyone heard back from Rei and Natsume? If they’ve disappeared, and my bride has disappeared, what if they’re connected, and something worse than we thought is happening? It could happen, worse and weirder things have happened up there.”

 

“I don’t know about Natsume, but Rei’s the Emperor of the Academy. I doubt anything’s capable of making him disappear—and I think we would’ve heard a lot more from Shu about it. If your bonded dies, you don’t just…not notice it.” Izumi flutters a hand dismissively. “If something exceptionally weird is going on, Ritsu will contact me. He’s sort of obligated to, if he wants any news about his pet that’s apparently down in the South. I said I’d check on the asshole for him while I was there.”

 

“Mm, that’s a comfort, I suppose,” Arashi allows. “At least since we have eyes on Shu and Mao, we’d know if anything happened to those brothers. I suppose those bonds are good for something...sometimes, anyway. They still seem too complicated for me. But yeah, what shall we do about this whole...creature thing? I don’t mind sending some reinforcements, but if the Inglings roll over the West, I need to have every single possible troop ready to fight.”

 

“Let’s just wait until we actually know what we’re facing—and when we have our wizards back, that’ll be much easier,” Izumi says wearily. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Leo has the right idea about just sending a few to cause a massive magical disruption of some sort. It’s certainly cheaper than feeding hundreds of men.” He pauses, then adds abruptly, “Does it bother you? That he’s not bonded to you? Like, do you constantly think he’s going to find someone that he _is_ bonded to and that’s why you haven’t asked him?”

 

Arashi shrugs one shoulder, looking down at the road. “I’d be stupid not to be worried at all, you know? I’ve seen those bonds ruin lives and relationships--and he’s a wizard, so it’s not like he can help it, if he does find someone like that. Isn’t tying him down to someone like me just cruel?”

 

“‘Someone like you’—said as if you aren’t ideal, you ass.” Izumi scowls, twisting up his reins in his hands. “It’s not like bonds are kind to wizards, either. Something like that…if they don’t want it, it can tear them apart. All the better to marry him and lock him up in your room and never let him out, if you ask me. At least he’s usually in favor of that idea.”

 

“Unless it requires him being away from Shu for more than four minutes,” Arashi says sourly. “Or have you forgotten our Northern Excursion?”

 

“My mother didn’t help that situation,” Izumi points out with a sigh. “I’m sure as long as he could freely visit Shu, that’d be fine. I mean, I get pissed when I don’t get to see you for a long time, you know? Same thing.”

 

Arashi bites back the comment that it’s not _really_ the same thing, has never felt like the same thing, that even when touching had been outlawed, he’d walked in on them clothed head-to-toe in the hottest months, just so they could hold each other. “I guess...well, the worst he can say is ‘no,’ right? So I don’t really have anything to worry about.”

 

“If he says ‘no’, it’s because he’s being that…way he is, not because he doesn’t want to,” Izumi firmly insists. “Arashi, he used to threaten to murder not only me, but everyone in my family because he thought I was a ‘bad influence’ on you. He was willing to die by the Academy’s hand to be with you. I don’t think you need to worry about him not being in love with you.”

 

“Is it really stupid not to want to be someone’s second choice?” Arashi asks softly. “I don’t know what the point of that ‘marriage’ would be, anyway, it’s not like we have children to give legitimacy to, and neither of us are precisely monogamous...”

 

“How on earth could you be his second choice?” Izumi incredulously shoots back. “The _point_ of it, by the way, is to be with the person you love. Forget kids, screw monogamy, it’s nice to have some validation that your _feelings_ are legitimate. Ugh, I hate you, stop making me say shit like this, you should _know_ this by now. I can’t believe fluttery, prissy _Shu_ is making you insecure.”

 

“Why shouldn’t he?” Arashi snaps. “I used to walk in on them whispering sweet nothings to each other all the damn time, if it weren’t for Shu’s bond they’d be together right now, I’m sure.”

 

“What kind of ‘sweet nothings’? Shu used to jot down the shit I said about Leo, so how do you know they weren’t just practicing their love poetry? They’re weird. You _know_ they’re weird.”

 

“Honestly, Izumi,” Arashi says, exasperated. “Who do you think he was writing poetry for, before he met Rei?”

 

“I don’t know, his scholarly interests? His dolls?”

 

“I mean, yes, but...also about Mika. A _lot_ of it. And Mika used to talk about, gods, nothing else. We’d go for walks, remember how I told you about that? And all he’d talk about is Master is so smart, Master is so kind, Master is so attractive, and I _still_ fell for him, because I’m an idiot.” Arashi huffs, folding his arms. “I don’t know, I’m probably just trying to talk myself out of it again.”

 

“Isn’t Mika basically one of his dolls, though?” Izumi deadpans. “You’re definitely just trying to talk yourself out of it. Not to point out the obvious again, but I have to, because you’re being stupid—Mika’s got a pretty low tolerance for people he doesn’t want to be around. Don’t you think, just maybe, if he didn’t want to be with you, he’d leave?”

 

Arashi shrugs. “Who knows why he does things? He’s a kind of mysterious guy, you know...even to me, who I guess should know him pretty well. Like finding out he’s way older than me after a decade of knowing him, what the hell?”

 

“Okay, that was weird, I’ll give you that. But to be fair, he looks like a teenager and never corrects anyone. You need to stop second-guessing this, though, it’s pissing me off. Keep it up and you’re not going to enjoy this trip at all.” Izumi leans closer in his saddle. “Arashi. We’re going to the Sandlands, where he’s been dressed up as a fancy whore for weeks. He’s going to be dressed like that _when we show up._ ”

 

The thought of Mika dressed like that crashes into Arashi like a freight train, and he has to fumble after his breath for a moment. “I don’t know, that’s going to be _weird_ ,” he says, frowning. “I’ve seen a lot of the whores down there, they don’t do much for me...”

 

“I’ve been told he’s dressed like an _expensive_ one, though. Apparently, he’s been on a prince’s hip this whole time, so he probably looks very…” Izumi trails off, eyes glazing a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him with his hair combed.”

 

Arashi’s face drops in a scowl. “You know, I’d like it a lot more if the person he had to whore himself out to was someone unimportant. Someone I could murder. Who cares what his hair looks like, I’ve been trying to forget how miserable he probably is for weeks.”

 

“I care about that _and_ what he looks like. Come on, lighten up for five seconds and think with your dick, I know it works.”

 

“No, it’s mad.”

 

“About _what?_ The prince is Rei’s friend, he hasn’t put his hands on Mika, he’s fine. Think about how pretty he probably is. I’m assuming he can look pretty underneath all his weird.”

 

“Say that he isn’t usually pretty again, I’ll kill you,” Arashi growls. “And you won’t die, you’ll just suffer, and I’ll kill you again.”

 

“He’s usually pretty! I just mean, you know, cleaned up, refined—heh, see, this is how you know you’ve got to marry him, you’ll kill anyone else who tries.”

 

Arashi glares, but doesn’t try to argue again, settling back in the saddle. “If he says no,” he says at last, “you have to marry me, and I’ll join the kingsguard for real. I mean it.”

 

“All right.” Izumi says it without hesitation, and glances over at Arashi for a moment before looking forward again with a soft snort. “At least we’ll be a scandal together, and I’ve already got a ring in mind. The capital…is rough right now, about that sort of thing.”

 

“And what will His Majesty say about it?” Arashi asks, with the little flutter of nervousness he always feels whenever he asks about the King, and how exactly he fits into all of this.

 

“I don’t know.” The answer has a quiet edge of frustration to it, but Izumi stamps that down as hard as he can. “I’ve told him a million times that I’m serious about marrying you. Never really bats an eye. I don’t know if that’s because he’s too obsessed with the fact Mika apparently hates him, or if he doesn’t give a damn, legitimately, _or_ if he’s just not…right, these days.”

 

“Or if he doesn’t believe you,” Arashi suggests. “He’s always commented a lot more on how he thinks I really feel than on the things I actually say. It’s...pretty strange, but it’s definitely like he can see straight to my soul.”

 

“He’s always been like that,” Izumi mutters dismissively. “Now he’s just more…blunt about it. He should believe me, it’s not like he’s going to marry me. I’m not going to be _just_ his consort the rest of my life unless that ever becomes an official term; right now, it’s the _nice_ word people call me in the capital.”

 

“Oh, and you’ve always cared what people in the Capital call you?”

 

“No, but—you know what, fine, never mind, go back to your problems instead, that’s much more important.”

 

“Stop trying to deflect onto me every time you don’t like the topic, asshole. My problems aren’t fun for me to talk about!”

 

“Follow along, dumbass, I’m criticizing you for making fun of me when I’m trying to complain.” Annoyingly enough, his lower lip wobbles, and Izumi huffs as he stares straight ahead. “Being in the capital isn’t the same as it used to be, you know.”

 

Arashi huffs. “Now I’m pissed, because I just want to come over there and hug you, but your demon bitch is going to eat my leg.”

 

“Kick her in the nose, that’s what I do all the time,” Izumi says with a wet laugh, and he lifts a hand to irritably scrub at his eyes. “Ugh, don’t look, now I’m going to be the blotchy one. It fucking sucks being alone in the capital. Kasa’s too dependent to be helpful, Ritsu doesn’t get humans and thinks I should just play the half-blood card all the time, and Leo…Leo’s not…” He flutters the same hand, searching for words. “The same. Or maybe I’m not good enough anymore. I can’t figure out which, maybe it’s both—how couldn’t it be, after everything.”

 

Arashi looks down at his hands, holding the reins gently, and finds them clenched. “I want to talk about something,” he says carefully, not meeting Izumi’s eyes. “I don’t think anyone else is, and I think it’s important, but I don’t want you to get...that way you get.”

 

“No promises, I’m sort of this way, so I’m told,” Izumi mutters, refusing to look at Arashi in turn. “But go ahead.”

 

“Do you know you’re different?” Arashi asks finally, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the thick leather of the reins. “Since your bond was broken? Can you feel it all the time, or is it...something else that changed at the same time? You can talk about how Leo isn’t the same all you want, but _you’re_ not either.”

 

 _Never mind, I don’t want to talk about this_ is what immediately comes to Izumi’s mind, but he bites that down, trying to think critically instead. It’s difficult when even _mentioning_ that bond makes him ache down to his bones, and he shifts restlessly, twisting his reins slowly around in his hands. “I have dreams about it every single night,” he finally says. “I don’t know how someone couldn’t be different, with that hanging over them.”

 

“I have absolutely no idea what it’s like,” Arashi says softly. “But...how is it...how _was_ it different, with him, than it is with me, or with Mika, or with Leo? Is it--I always imagined it would be like finally taking a full breath after having to breathe through a straw forever, you know? And if it were taken away....but I don’t know what I’m talking about, as I said.”

 

“That’s just the thing—I didn’t even…I couldn’t even feel it, before.”

 

Izumi lifts a hand, wiping at his eyes again in frustration. “The most I ever felt…well, it was more like I heard it, and even then, it was just—a call, once in awhile, not much else. The sex wasn’t even…I mean, it was good at the time, because it was after—you know—but it didn’t feel like anything extra, and touching him didn’t feel any different than touching anyone else, I didn’t…neither of us even _knew_.” He shakes his head. “It’s pretty bullshit that now, when I don’t even have it anymore, that I feel it all the time, and that I…I can’t make it stop.”

 

“You never seem happy anymore,” Arashi says, finally voicing what he’s been wanting to say for months, honestly. “You never tease anyone, or laugh. I keep expecting you to snap back and come back into life with the rest of us...but you _haven’t_ , you know? And it’s been a few years, and...I’m starting to wonder if you’re ever going to be the man I fell for. I love this you, too, just so you know, but...” His shoulders lift, helpless. “I worry about you.”

 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just grew up?” Izumi wetly snaps, too frustrated now to bite his tongue. “We weren’t going to be kids forever. I can’t be, not in my position, not when Leo needs _me_ to be his sword. If I didn’t shape up, I’d never command an ounce of respect in the capital, Arashi. It’s still bad enough that he has to _send me away_ when he’s going to have full meetings with his advisors; they won’t even speak to him if I’m in the damned city.”

 

Arashi’s jaw tenses, and he stares straight down the road, hands clenched on the reins. “Is this because you stopped fucking women?” he demands. “That was the same time as all this, maybe your...other side, I don’t know, maybe it’s affecting you and you don’t even know it.”

 

“Fuck if I know.” Izumi’s fingers tremble for a moment. “I hate looking up shit about it. I wish I could go back to being…mostly human, no one knowing about this, and just an idiot womanizer, you know? But now everyone _needs_ this part of me, or they think it’s disgusting, nothing in-between. Ritsu kept trying to tell me things, still does, even after I told him to just shut up about it, I…” A last, hiccuping breath, and he bursts full-on into tears. “I-it’s so fucking _lonely_ in the Capital when you’re not there, y-you ass!” he sobs, fumbling for a second handkerchief, and failing. “F-fuck you, honestly, _fuck you_ , Mika might be fucking clingy with his master but h-he’s not waking up in the middle of the night to cling to a ghost that’s not really there!”

 

“Fuck that demon,” Arashi mutters suddenly, and clucks a command to Neigh, then slides down to the ground, grabbing Izumi by the shirt and yanking him to the side for a hard kiss. It tastes like salt and a little like blood, but Arashi holds on, dragging the horses to a stop, absently whacking Izumi’s horse in the nose when she tries to bite him. “You’re not the only one, all right?” he says, finally releasing Izumi’s shirt, resting his forehead against Izumi’s. “It’s not a bond, but fuck, I wake up that way looking for you, for Mika, for _both_ of you. I do’t know _anything_ about bonds, but fuck, darling, if it can be filled up with love, I’ll get rid of that shit so fast your head will spin.”

 

Izumi nods helplessly, unwilling to argue about it anymore when Arashi is very solid and warm and _real_ and kissing him hard enough to make that feel like it’s enough, in that moment. He flops forward and down, clinging to Arashi’s neck. “It hurts,” he whispers, aware of how pathetic that sounds, but unable to temper it. “And…i-if I bring it up to Leo…well, I don’t, because it’s even worse for him,” he manages with a hoarse laugh. “He fucking lies to me. S-straight up lies to me about it, I _know_ his dreams are worse, or maybe he’s happier there, I c-can’t even tell anymore. But I hate it, I hate all of this, I’m sorry I’m such a pain, I hate feeling like this and I hate being such a _fuck up._ ”

 

“Is anyone saying that?” Arashi demands. He drags Izumi fully off his horse, holding him so tightly that he _does_ hear a rib creak, and ignores it. “I’m only upset because I fucking hate seeing you in pain, you know! So just...you at least don’t have to be there alone. That’s a promise. It’s all I can give you, but it’s honest, all right?”

 

“Only half the capital hates me, you know,” Izumi miserably says, abandoning his horse’s reins and letting himself be dragged. He dangles from Arashi’s neck, huffing out a soggy breath. “That’s so much more than enough, you ass. T-thank you. Gods, I’m just…I’m so sick of it. I-if I don’t have to see him, or hear his name, I can…I can forget my bond, when I’m awake. But it’s the rest of it—‘half-breeds are taking over everything’, ‘the North’s trying to control the whole world’, ‘if he’s not human, least he could do is have the king’s babies’—shit like that, day in and day out, try running a fucking guard when getting critiqued on your swordplay’s the least of your concerns.”

 

“It’ll be worse when I’m there,” Arashi points out, “because they’ll talk about both of us. But hey, we’ll have more fun, because we can hate them together and point out their bad fashion. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

 

Izumi nods, sniffling loudly and wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. “I don’t _care_ if they talk about me,” he softly clarifies, lifting his head to stare up at Arashi, his eyes still wet. “Or who my father was, or where I’m from, or what I do in bed. I just want…that. Someone to back me up. Leo does. Gods, he does, as much as he can, but it’s all fucking politics, all the time, and I…can’t ask much more of him, when I’m the one insisting. He’s the king, he can’t just grab me in public and kiss me to make a point of not giving a shit, you know? It’s in poor taste. It could start another fucking war.”

 

“But _I_ could,” Arashi says softly. “If I gave up my dominance. We could be so scandalous, darling--and honestly, we’d probably do good things for Leo’s reputation, if we draw the attention away from him.”

 

“…I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t thought about that,” Izumi admits. “Not…not that I want to use you for that. Just—you know. I don’t need to explain it. It’d be nice, to be with someone who’d kiss me in public and keep at it even after people complained.” He snorts, wiping at his eyes. “I hate being so…well-behaved. Gods, I don’t want to make you do this, but it sounds so nice…”

 

“It _does_ , doesn’t it?” Arashi sighs. “I wish you weren’t so attractive to me. Mentally, physically...societally...politically...geographically....ugh, you’re driving me _crazy_ , why couldn’t we have had a soul bond? Then I could tell everyone else to go fuck themselves and be happy about it.”

 

“Maybe there’s a loophole somewhere, so you can sign your wealth over to the North or the capital or _something_ before you’d lose all of it by pissing off everyone here,” Izumi says with a ragged laugh. “But…likewise. Gods, maybe we should fake it. I’m a fucking snake. Maybe snakes have bonds, what do I know?” 

 

Arashi finally releases Izumi, squeezing his hand one last time before swinging back up on Neigh. “Imagine if we did have kids,” he says suddenly. “If they found a magic that could let us. What do you think they’d be like? I don’t want to lay eggs, though.”

 

“I’ll lay the eggs, if that’s what it takes,” Izumi grumbles, hauling himself back into the saddle, and for once, his stupid horse doesn’t whip around to bite him in the leg. “They’d be incredibly beautiful, first of all.” 

 

“Oh, without a doubt. I wonder how much of me and how much of you they’d get? Like, would that be the most unkillable kid in the world, or _what_?”

 

Arashi pauses, then thinks. “Wait. If you lay eggs, are we going to have like a hundred?”

 

“My mom only had one of me, so probably not? I don’t think ice drakes have, uh, huge…clutches…? Or whatever it’s called. That’s why they fuck everything.” Izumi sniffs again, rubbing at his nose. “Watch, it would come out perfectly normal.”

 

Arashi snorts. “As long as it’s beautiful, that’s fine. Ugh...”

 

He rubs his hands through his hair. “Why am I like this, huh? How come everyone in the world can make love to a woman except me? What the hell is wrong with me--maybe I really am a woman in a man’s body, you know? Like I thought when I was a kid.”

 

“It’s not just you,” Izumi mildly says. “Though it’d be fine if you were like that, I’ll call you my lady if you want. But, heh. Guess who else can’t handle women in the slightest?”

 

“Who?” Arashi asks, eyes widening. “I’ve...I know plenty of men who enjoy the company of other men, but I don’t know any other men who can’t touch a woman at all.”

 

“I’m honestly so glad you didn’t know so I can tell you: it’s our very own Emperor.”

 

Arashi’s mouth falls open. “Wait--what? But--but he’s a _sex_ wizard, who the hell designed him?”

 

“Some god thought it would be hilarious, my guess.” Izumi’s lips twitch, almost cracking a smile. “But yeah, Ritsu’s told me all about it, and I have to agree—it’s pretty fucking funny.”

 

“I know for a fact that Ritsu can touch women just fine. Seriously, though? The Emperor?”

 

Something eases in Arashi’s chest, something he hadn’t known was tense. “I never knew there were other men like me.”

 

“He’s just the most obvious example I can think of. There were a couple of low-ranked nobles that used to be around the capital, back in the day…so of course they tumbled me because I was so horny and desperate, and complained about women the whole time. You’re not the only one, trust me.”

 

Arashi lets out a breath, nodding slowly. “All right. All right. That’s...good. I was starting to think there was a real issue with me, both physically and, I don’t know, from the gods or whoever is in charge of such a thing. But, good, then I’m perfect, just as I thought.”

 

“Uh, yeah. You’re perfect, asshole. Some men just don’t want to fuck women. Hell, some women don’t want to fuck men.” Izumi leans to the side, eyebrows raised. “Honestly. And you’re not ever allowed to spread this around, or I’ll kill you. I’ve _never_ had a real interest in women.”

 

Arashi blinks. “Does interest mean something else in the North? Because I’ve actually seen you go from limp noodle to proud monument at the sight of a woman’s ankle.”

 

“It’s not a _conscious_ thing,” Izumi says grumpily. “Right, remember how I told you how in the North, it’s not whether you’re a man or a woman, but what status you have? Well, the only kids of worthy status that ever got dragged up there were girls. I wasn’t interested, but my body told me I didn’t have a damned choice. Why do you think I always went for flat-chested women back when I _was_ fucking them?”

 

“Because tits are confusing bags of fat?”

 

“I mean, yeah, but also, because it’s a lot easier to think about men while I’m doing it.”

 

“Fair enough,” Arashi allows. “I mean, you know I adore them as people, but all the parts I really _like_ about people in a physical way...they’re missing it, you know?”

 

“Of course I know. If I didn’t have a goddamn biological imperative to fuck everything that moves, I would literally never even consider women. I want you to know that. And now I want you to forget that. I still have a reputation, and unless you’re really coming to the capital with me to properly ruin it, you have to forget that.”

 

Arashi stares into the distance, as the hooves of two swift horses beat against the road. “Let’s see if he says yes,” he says softly. “I feel like...if I can, I’d like to be able to give him...just, everything. He’s never had a home. He’s never had someone that was truly his. Ahhh, why couldn’t I split meeting you and him into this and my next life?”

 

“Tell me about it.” Izumi briefly shuts his eyes, and is reminded swiftly of how sore and tired they feel now after crying. “Yeah. Make sure you take care of him first or I’ll be pissed.”

 

“Mm, yes, yes.” And honestly, only the idea of seeing Mika soon could make Arashi ride any faster.


	33. Chapter 33

The Shadowlands, it turns out, are _much_ further from the North than expected.

 

Izumi has seen dozens, maybe hundreds of maps drawn out in an attempt to gauge the distance. All of them are wrong. What appears to be about three days is close to a solid two weeks, and by the end of it, Vale is fluctuating between lame and sound, Izumi is cold (yes, even _he_ is cold), exhausted, and desperately wanting a real bath (the Hinterlands offered poor lodging at best), and the border to the Shadowlands still looms half an hour away.

 

But he’d been told to only come that close, _or else_ , comes the whisper in his memory, _especially if you’re alone._

 

This close to the border, the forests are dense, with tall, stiff evergreens making it difficult to navigate. It’s not like any forest he’s seen, with a notable lack of pathways carved through it, and it’s strangely silent between the straight, closely-packed trees. The sun barely filters through it, and Izumi uneasily shifts in the saddle, even the creak of leather suddenly too loud in his ears.

 

_All of this, for a fucking horse and maybe a jug of wine._

 

That lack of focus nearly gets him killed in the next second. The forest abruptly ends, what looks to be a downward slope actually an abrupt, craggy drop off into something dark and deep, and it’s only Vale’s sharp backpedaling that keeps them from falling off what looks to be the edge of the damned _world_. Rocks and dirt tumble down the side as Vale snorts and rears as he stumbles back, and Izumi’s chest heaves as he finds himself clinging to his horse’s mane like a child for the first time in years. “Fuck you,” he suddenly says. “Fuck you, Ritsu, you little shit, fuck every part of this.”

 

As if summoned by his cursing, a wisp of cloud floats closer, then twists around Izumi’s leg. It looks solid enough, but passes through his skin without a touch, curling in seemingly random eddies, but swirling around him just the same. Another wisp joins it, and another, and another, until he’s entirely surrounded, horse and all.

 

“You’re soooo late, Izumi,” a familiar voice whispers, though no part of Ritsu is visible, and the clouds just twist in the air, despite the silent wind. “I was getting boooored.”

 

Izumi has seen and dealt with quite a bit of magic in his short life, but this is still disturbing, on the level of Mika’s little ghost incarnations (though obviously, not as deadly or dread-inducing). Vale snorts, shifting anxiously, throwing his head back as he becomes more and more unsettled, and Izumi curses again underneath his breath. “Fuck you, it takes forever to get here and I’m tired of _being_ here already!” he snaps, glancing about frantically, as if that’ll help him find Ritsu faster. “Show me some proper hospitality or I’m going and you can keep your stupid horse!”

 

That ethereal voice laughs. “Perhaps I should drop my shadow friends...they’re there to shield you from powerful demons while I guide you into the country, but if you don’t want a guide...and if you want to be seen...”

 

“Isn’t this you and your brother’s country?” Izumi growls, warily nudging Vale forward all the same. Escort his ass—a bunch of ‘shadow friends’ isn’t an escort, Ritsu arriving naked and ready to chew on him is an _escort._ “Shouldn’t they listen to you and not eat your guests?”

 

“My dogs are trained not to eat live prey, too,” Ritsu murmurs, amused. “But I wouldn’t let them babysit a blind piglet. Just across the bridge, I’ll be there to meet you.”

 

At his words, a bridge, seemingly also made of clouds, appears between the cliffs, swirling into view, looking ethereal as air itself.

 

“Did you just call me a piglet? I’ll slit your throat.” Nevertheless, Izumi begrudgingly does as he’s told—well, as much as he’s able, when Vale takes one look at that bridge and decides, _fuck no._

 

“That’s really fair,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath, and he decides to cut his losses. It’s not the first time he’s left Vale to fend for himself, after all, and so Izumi slides off of his back, uncinches his saddle, and unclips his pack from it. Vale immediately scuttles backward in a movement that suits a skinny little capital racehorse than a Northern draft, and Izumi heaves a sigh, turning away to make his way across the bridge in question.

 

It _creaks_. Clouds shouldn’t creak.

 

Izumi shivers in spite of himself, unsettled and hating every moment of it, with his hand never quite leaving the hilt of his sword as he walks. That unease simply won’t leave, settled in the pit of his stomach and making him more restless with every step into the Shadowlands proper. _If this is where Rei and Ritsu are from, how do they even pretend at being human?_

 

Movement stirs under the bridge--amorphous shapes made out of clouds, at first, but it resolves slowly into hard shapes, the occasional claw or horn peeking out of the darkness. A few come close, sniffing the air, but never _quite_ close enough to touch. The shadows surrounding Izumi firm, then bat away one shape, making it hiss and pull back to the abyss below. After that, no more creatures rise, though there’s a heightened sense of awareness, and a hundred thousand watching eyes.

 

The second Izumi sets foot on the far shore, however, a door appears between two trees, growing between them as if spun from a vine. Finally, a latch appears, gleaming gold among the wood and leaves, and at the last second, as if an afterthought, a little plaque above the door. The first several lines are in spiraling script that seems to ebb and flow, but the last line, scratched hurriedly at the bottom, is in Common.

 

**[Welcome, Friend to Bloodbred. And Izumi.]**

 

For a long moment, Izumi stands stark still, staring at the door. He’s _assumed_ he’s seen a lot of magic—perhaps he’s mistaken. No, he’s certain he’s mistaken now. Being around wizards doesn’t necessarily mean he’s privy to all of the things they’re involved in, and obviously, anything in the Shadowlands is a step above that.

 

“I’m going to get eaten because I want a fancy pony, aren’t I,” Izumi mutters, hesitantly stepping forward and reaching for the door’s latch to open it. “It was nice knowing you, Leo, Arashi, Mika, Kasa…”

 

The second he opens the door, something hits him--a man-shaped something, as Ritsu grabs him in a huge hug, smelling of cotton and soap and just a little bit of incense. “Yaaaay, you came! I didn’t wanna fly out and bring you in, it makes me sooo sleepy...but you’re here! I knew you’d make it!”

 

The house itself is surprisingly normal-looking. Most of it would be at home in an average Capital or Northern home, with a few exceptions--houseplants that twitch this way and that, curtains that look incorporeal, windows right next to each other that show different times of day and weather patterns.

 

Izumi blinks in open, startled surprise that he is not only not dead, but is instead cuddled fiercely by a sweet-smelling Ritsu that looks more vibrant than Izumi ever remembers seeing him. “This…is where you live?” he manages, glancing around in vague confusion before he remembers to hug back. “I have to admit, I expected more gloom and doom. And _more_ things trying to eat me.”

 

“You should see my Mom’s room.” Ritsu beams, and immediately draws Izumi close again, welcoming him with a lingering suck to the side of his neck. “Mm, welcome, welcome, do you have stuff? You can leave it here, the Shades will take care of it. You wanna stay in my room? Or you want the guest room, hehe?”

 

A reply lingers on Izumi’s tongue and doesn’t quite make it off of it when his knees briefly wobble, deciding now is a good time to react _strongly_ to Ritsu’s sudden over-affection. “You…are _so_ much more cheerful than I’ve ever seen you,” he manages, giving up and setting his bag down. “Does the rest of the world not sit well with you? You do _not_ have to stop.”

 

“It’s the sun,” Ritsu explains, hovering from foot to foot, then reaching out to grab Izumi close again, nuzzling into his hair. “It makes me feel awful and sleepy. Up here where there isn’t sun, this is the real me. Ahhh, you wanna see the horses? Orrrrr...”

 

Red eyes flicker, and one fine dark brow twitches. “You wanna go for a different kind of ride first?”

 

“Yes. No. I—you’re _very_ cute?” Sounding a mix of perplexed and aroused is troubling, but inevitable, at this rate. Izumi struggles with how exactly to proceed, then gives up, deciding Ritsu is too desirable a prize to pass up. The horses aren’t going anywhere, either. “Have you fed?” he presses, knowing that’s a one-way ticket to exactly what they both want. “I’m sure a proper meal is easier to come by here, but…”

 

Ritsu’s eyes blink in a parody of his usual sleepy flutter, but there’s energy behind the motion, something sly. “I don’t starve in my own house,” he murmurs, grabbing Izumi by the collar. “But no one tastes as good as youuuu. Mm, remind me after and I’ll give you a proper welcome as a visiting prince. But first...come to my room.”

 

“I’m no prince,” Izumi quietly protests, but he follows like a puppy being pulled along by its leash, unable (and unwilling) to say no. “I suppose you are, though, aren’t you, if your brother is the Demon King.”

 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Ritsu beams, tugging Izumi up a winding staircase, up and up, though the house hadn’t looked that tall from the outside. “Yeah, if he ever dies, the Shadowlands are mine...he’s not really doing his job much, though, the last fifty years, so some of my relatives are trying to get me to take over. Lame.”

 

“Of course he isn’t, he’s busy fucking Shu in every place in the world that he’s allowed.” So much for this not being a proper castle. Those stairs just keep _going_ , and Izumi can’t help but let his eyes roam. The sheer amount of strange, subtle magic that makes the walls change in texture (wood? stone? who knows) is disconcerting, and the dull roars of creatures lurking outside make him quicken his pace to follow more closely at Ritsu’s heels, his fingers still hovering about the hilt of his sword. “Can regular humans…even stand to be in this place?”

 

Ritsu laughs, turning backwards to walk that way for a few steps, feet light in a dance. “I mean, they don’t die or anything. I told you, I eat well up here...but not usually from a prince, this is going to be fuuuuun.”

 

“Can you not call me that? You’re perpetuating the capital’s idea that the North is a filthy traitor and trying to take over everything,” Izumi sighs. It’s hard to scold Ritsu _too_ much when he looks happier than Izumi has ever seen him, but he might as well while he still can. “I know you haven’t been in the Capital much recently, but…”

 

“Mm, I don’t mean of the realm,” Ritsu assures him, finding a door’s latch and opening it, carved onyx swinging inward. “I mean on the side of your family that matters up here. Half-drakes are really rare, you know?”

 

“Are…they?” Izumi manages, his head tilting to the side. Ritsu’s room _looks_ surprisingly normal, but trusting that seems unwise, considering. He warily unbuckles his sword, though he’s not entirely sure he should be putting it down yet. “There have been stories about drakes for centuries in the North. I mean, they don’t call drakes ‘drakes’, but that’s obviously what they’re about…and if they’re anywhere as horny as I am all the time, I’m not sure how half-bloods like me can be that rare.”

 

Ritsu cocks his head to the side, then murmurs, “Oh, right, you don’t know much about them, right? Ahh, usually...” He shuts the door behind them, and the walls start to crawl, patterns appearing and disappearing, sketching designs and being wiped clean like patterns traced on the sand between waves. The bed is sumptuous and enormous, and he casually kicks an ornate silver cup under the bed. “Usually drakes take the mother and the children back to the glaciers.”

 

“Oh.” That’s news to him. Izumi sets his sword next to the door and makes his way to the foot of the bed, where he drops down to start unlacing his boots. “Yeah, my mother would’ve killed him if he had tried that,” he says with a wry laugh. “I don’t know if he did try; she rarely, if ever, talks about it.”

 

“Mm, so you’re rare, see?” Ritsu beams. “And drakes used to be really important up here, so everyone up here is gonna see you as a prince at least, since the North hereditarily belongs to them, as far as my people are concerned. Nn, but I don’t care, get your clothes off so I can eat you without leather in the way.”

 

“That’s too much weird information at once, so explain it more later when you’re not promising to eat me,” Izumi grouses, kicking his boots off and swiftly making work of every button and fastening on his coat. “Or don’t. The more you talk about it, the more it sounds like you’re trying to arrange some kind of weird, political marriage for the Shadowlands with me.”

 

Ritsu makes a face, then tackles Izumi to the bed, tongue flicking out to lick his ear. He lets his hand drag down, wriggling out of his clothes as he grabs for Izumi’s chest. “Don’t wanna be a girl,” he complains. “No marriage for us. Besides, Mao wouldn’t wanna be my concubine, I already asked.”

 

Izumi melts down into the bed, exhaling a hot, shaky breath at the sheer relief being shoved down into the bed brings. “I have no idea what you mean when you say you don’t wanna be a girl, but I also don’t care,” he groans, his fingers grabbing at Ritsu’s back, then dragging down, helping him out of his pants. “You’re so lovely, fuck you.”

 

Ritsu’s clothes suddenly disappear in a breath of smoke, and he grins, grabbing Izumi’s ankles and yanking them up over his head. “As if I’d let you fuck me right now,” he gloats, red eyes burning. “That’s for dessert. This...mmm....this is my real treat.”

 

He moves as quickly as any of the shadows outside, darting forward to snap his fangs into Izumi’s neck, mouth fastened to the skin with an urgent, over-eager whimper as he starts to drink.

 

Izumi arches with a gasp, the initial bite immediately spreading euphoric, tingly warmth through his limbs. He’s probably in the minority that think this feels good—Tsukasa has told him stories, full of complaints and growling in Ritsu’s general direction—especially when Ritsu drinks so deeply, but it makes him shiver and sag into the bed, his head rolling back as he strokes a hand slowly down Ritsu’s spine. He can hear his own pulse thumping in his ears, the way it slows, then speeds up again, replacing blood as quickly as it’s lost. “Am I really that tasty?” he breathlessly asks, his eyes lidding. “You say you eat up here, but you act like you’re starving…”

 

“Not one person in the world,” Ritsu breathes, finally pulling back, lips and teeth stained red, “tastes as good as you. You’re my faaaaavorite flavor.”

 

He licks his lips, long tongue flicking out now that he doesn’t feel like hiding it, and he shifts, getting his knees on the bed between Izumi’s thighs. “Mm, like this, you look like my pretty vulnerable prey...the only thing that would make it better....” His eyes flash, and a shadow darts out, lashing Izumi’s wrists to the bedpost.

 

Once again, Izumi is certain he’s going to _actually_ be eaten for a damned horse. In this context, though, he minds it far less, and he sags back with a ragged huff of breath, feeling the aching throb of Ritsu’s bite in his neck still, his eyes following the flick of Ritsu’s tongue. He swallows, his toes curling as he shifts, trying to splay his legs a bit wider, and he gives an experimental tug on what binds him. A little flutter of nerves over how impossibly caught he is makes him harder, because of _course_ it does. “You can drink as much as you want, then,” he murmurs. “You’re being a good host, after all…”

 

“I know,” Ritsu murmurs, trailing down Izumi’s body. “Can I drink from your thigh? Hurts less when you squirm around, you know. And it’s more fun to hold you down that way...”

 

“D…drink from wherever you want, I don’t mind.” Izumi’s chest heaves, his fingers slowly curling into his palms as he squirms deliberately, splaying his legs in an open invitation. “It’s fine if it hurts, I like it, but…when you drink, it feels good.” He licks his lips, eyes trained down to watch Ritsu’s path downward. “I miss it, when you aren’t in the capital…”

 

“Mm, I know.” Ritsu rubs his cheek against Izumi’s thigh, listening for a moment, hearing his stomach growl. “You’ve got too much blood, you know. Your body can keep making more, but you’ve got to get someone to take out the old stuff. But that’s good for me,” he reassures him, letting his fangs creep out of his mouth, looking longer than ever. “The older it is, the sweeter. I like it when you’re...nice and ripe.”

 

And then he strikes, almost surgically sinking both fangs into Izumi’s thigh, both of them striking the big femoral artery.

 

“Fuck,” Izumi whimpers, his leg reflexively jerking against the bite, the muscle flexing underneath Ritsu’s mouth. When Ritsu drinks there, it makes him less light-headed, but it feels all the more intimate, somehow, and it feels like it’s going straight to his cock with every mouthful Ritsu swallows down. He shivers hard, his head lolling back as he stares with fuzzy vision up at the shifting textures of Ritsu’s ceiling, the flush that heats up his body as it automatically tries to heal itself and produce _more_ blood bordering on too much, overstimulating him already. “You…ah…t-that’s…gods, j-just stay in the capital, then, I’ll die if you don’t…”

 

Ritsu ignores him, drinking with relief, truly sating himself until he’s as full as he can be, finally detaching with a last suck. He sighs, delightedly content, and kisses Izumi’s thigh. “Capital’s too sunny,” he murmurs. “I’ll just keep you here forever as my snack, Mom would be real happy. Don’t worry,” he assures Izumi, stroking his belly as he settles between his thighs, rubbing the head of his hard cock against Izumi’s, then down. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t want to leave. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

 

“I…m..maybe, I…” Ah, _now_ he’s lightheaded. It’s impossible not to be as his body tries to catch up to Ritsu’s feeding, and now that he’s trembling, overstimulated, annoyingly turned on, words are _hard._ “Riitsu, you’ve gotta take care of me,” Izumi dazedly manages, slumping into the bed, his cock twitching when Ritsu rubs against him, his nipples achingly hard. “No one else does, but you…you get it, you’re…”

 

“You’re going to die if I don’t take care of you,” Ritsu murmurs, eyes raking over Izumi’s body. Then with one fluid movement, he lunges forward, sliding his cock in deep, closing his mouth around one nipple. “Mmm, what a good girl...you’re so tight, like a virgin...”

 

Izumi arches with a gasping, throaty noise, his nails biting into his own palms as he reflexively yanks against his bindings, wanting to sink his fingers into whatever part of Ritsu he can. It’s _far_ too much, too sudden and all at once, and the ragged sob that leaves his throat when Ritsu’s mouth closes over an already aching nipple makes him tense up even more, squeezing down around Ritsu’s cock. It should probably hurt, but Ritsu’s cock feels slick inside of him, making him shiver and squirm down instead of away. “H…how…do you always…fuck, please, that’s so good, you c-can’t…”

 

“Because I can hear your body.” Ritsu’s voice is a breathless sing-song, and he presses another kiss to Izumi’s chest, then moves up to his neck, nibbling, then biting again, drinking deep no matter that there’s no more room in his belly. He pulls off after just a couple of sips, groaning as he thrusts in deep again, then again, grinding in hard with every breath. “I can’t--you taste so good, I could live on nothing but you...you filled me up...now I’ll fill you up, hmm?”

 

Izumi nods helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut when Ritsu grinds in hard and deep, sliding in so perfectly that his body gives an unexpected clench down, his back arching off the bed when his cock twitches hard, dripping steadily over his stomach. The sound of blood thundering in his ears makes him pant harder, each breath making him try to wriggle down until pulling against his bound arms makes them ache. “Dizzy,” he dimly mumbles, twisting to try and turn his head aside and press a flushed, painfully hot cheek to the sheets in search of a cool spot. “In…in a good way…Riiitsu…” Izumi’s legs tremble, his toes curling in the air as he squeezes his thighs tighter around Ritsu’s waist. “Why aren’t you… _always_ fucking me, ’s not fair…”

 

“I’m fucking you now,” Ritsu murmurs, hands squeezing tightly on Izumi’s thighs. “You love this...because I know your body better than you do, don’t I?”

 

He chuckles, a dark, rich sound, as he rocks in in a perfect, pulsing rhythm, seeking out that angle that he knows will make Izumi mewl like a kitten. “So I’m--that’s why you--nnh, tell me how much you love it, you’ll die without it in you, right?”

 

Another, desperate nod follows. Izumi melts back into the bed, letting Ritsu pull him instead of trying to squirm how he thinks is best—Ritsu’s right, of course. He knows better, and having him drag him where he wants, when he wants feels _better._

 

“I…” Izumi fumbles for words, his mouth falling open as his focus wavers. His skin burns, a hard, wracking shiver raking through him as his thighs clamp around Ritsu’s waist. “F-feels like I’m gonna die…either way,” he pants out, his vision blurring again. Ritsu’s cock is hot and thick inside of him, and every twitch around it makes him gulp for air. “But it’s…so good…R-ritsu, you gotta…come in me, then I can…”

 

“You can beg for me to breed you all you want,” Ritsu hums, leaning down to lick a long stripe over Izumi’s ear, his tongue darting inside, then retracting as he sucks on Izumi’s earlobe. “I like hearing it...mm, but I’m not going to give you what you want until I’m nice and ready, you know? You’re here to serve the Demon Prince’s pleasure...”

 

Izumi sobs, his back arching sharply off the bed as he comes before Ritsu even _finishes_ that sentence. Every single tremor makes him try to press and rub up against Ritsu more, unthinking so long as it feels good as his cock drips over his stomach, sweat and come sticking them together. “You…f-fuck…p-please, please…” His breath hiccups, the tense, trembling muscles in his legs aching as he tries to cling to Ritsu like that all the more. “Ritsuuu…”

 

Ritsu grins, and the low light in the room glints off his teeth. When he feels Izumi come, he slows down, grinding in and out of him at an easy, less-frantic pace, working Izumi’s body like a stringed instrument, reaching up to pluck at his nipples. “Aa-ah, did that feel nice?” he croons, stroking Izumi’s cheek. “Thanks for making it even wetter for me, now I can really take my time...”

 

Izumi’s head rolls to the side to butt against Ritsu’s hand, a low, broken groan pulled from his throat. He can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears that roll into his eyes, and he blinks a few times, trying to clear his fuzzy vision. It doesn’t work, but fortunately, he cares little. “T…that’s you that’s making it wetter inside, you’re d…dripping so much…” His voice hitches with every pull to his nipples, and the muscles in his arms tremble as he pulls half-heartedly against the shadows wrapped about his wrists, holding him in place. “You feel so good, you’re not allowed to leave,” he mumbles, his own tongue snaking out to drag between Ritsu’s fingers.

 

“Hmm, looks like you want to be filled at the other end, too?” Ritsu asks, hips rocking in deep, pausing for a minute, just enjoying the slick squeeze of Izumi’s body for a while. “Mm, maybe I should call some of my friends in here to feed you...you don’t know them, but you don’t care, right? As long as they have nice big cocks for you to suck?”

 

A visible shudder goes through Izumi, and he clenches down, twisting underneath Ritsu when that quickly becomes too much. “I…j-just want you, though…” he whines, his eyes fluttering as he twists his head to the side, sucking one of Ritsu’s fingers into his mouth. “I’ll suck yours later,” he breathes as he licks at the tip of it. “Don’t…don’t share me, not _yet…”_

 

“Lame,” Ritsu teases, but his smile, and the way that he shoves in hard and deep, suddenly setting a bruising cadence, speaks to the lie behind those words. He groans, and stuffs his tongue into Izumi’s mouth, sucking and tasting, as he slams in a final time, spilling himself as far inside Izumi as he can get. “Serve you right if you had my baby,” he murmurs, head thunking down to Izumi’s shoulder.

 

A rumbling groan escapes Izumi’s throat, and he slithers down, trembling and sweaty and sated. “It’d be…really…really pretty,” he dazedly manages, his head rolling back as he tries, as if it’ll help, to squeeze his melty, useless thigh muscles around Ritsu to keep him inside, and not _spill_ anything. “Is there a magic way to do it? You’re a wizard, you’d know…”

 

“Mm, sure,” Ritsu says casually, nuzzling into Izumi’s neck. “But you’d steal it, you can’t help it.”

 

“If I had to carry it, damn right I’d steal it,” Izumi mutters, shifting with a wince. “Let my hands go, let me cuddle you, don’t you dare pull out.”

 

“Hehe, you’re at my mercy, be nice and maybe I’ll release you.”

 

Izumi flops back with a soft huff. “I’m always nice to you,” he says, but he doesn’t complain. It’s not like he _dislikes_ being tied up with someone still inside of him, and if it’s Ritsu, it’s bound to _stay_ good. Tilting his head back, he blows a sweaty strand of hair out of his face, his eyes lidded. “Seems like it would be easier to just embrace being a monster rather than stay a human, if this is what happens.”

 

“ _Way_ easier,” Ritsu agrees immediately, and with a wave of his hand, the shadows around Izumi’s wrists vanish. “It’s always really hard for the first five years or so when I leave here...every time I come back, I stay a little longer...”

 

“Why do you even leave?” Izumi lowers his arms with a grimace, his eyes lidding as he rubs at his wrists. They don’t hurt, but it doesn’t stop his arms from being sore courtesy of all of his tugging. “If it’s so much easier here, and you’re obviously so much happier…” His eyes _still_ won’t focus quite right, and he blinks a couple of times, trying to shake off the odd, too-sharp focus they have. “My eyes are doing that weird snake thing, aren’t they.”

 

Ritsu nods, with a little smile. “It’s sexy. You don’t need to hide that kind of thing here, don’t forget. I like your snake parts.”

 

“But this kind of thing happens more and more.” Izumi’s mouth twists a little. “I know you don’t mind, but humans tend to think it’s creepy.”

 

“Yeah...that’s not a thing up here,” Ritsu says, then stretches, sitting back up on his knees. “You want the tour now? Or we can fuck again, I don’t know how many times you need it. Oh, you want your horse?”

 

“At least tell me how to turn it on and off,” Izumi whines, hissing out a breath through his teeth when Ritsu shifts. Grumpily, he wriggles away as well, not impressed with the mess or how it feels to be empty again, but needs must. “If we can do it again later, that would be good,” he settles upon. “Normally, this wouldn’t be enough, but…I dunno, it’s you, and maybe because we’re here. I definitely want my horse, though.”

 

“Mmm, all right.” Ritsu shrugs into something that looks like it’s made of shadows, which resolves itself into a comfortable robe, fastened around his waist. “There’s a trick that we teach to Shadowbred kids. Moms pinch you right here--”

 

He takes Izumi’s hand, then pinches him between index finger and thumb, in the soft web, with both of his nails digging into the flesh. “It hurts a little, right? But imagine how it would feel to a human. For me, when I think like that, it starts to hurt a lot worse, and the teeth and everything go away for a while.”

 

Izumi frowns, and tries to focus on that as directed—though perhaps more accurately, how much Leo would whine and squeal about it if he were the one being pinched. He blinks a few times, and it’s a relief to see that it works, helping his pupils return to normal and not the snake-like slits they want to shift towards in moments like these. “Mm. Thanks.” He sits back, raking his hair out of his face. “Can Mao not come here at all?” he finally, bluntly asks. “Is that why you leave?”

 

Ritsu frowns, and his eyes swirl, gone stormy for a moment. “Humans... _can_ come,” he says warily. “He’s traveled in the Shadowlands before. But he’s always gonna be in danger up here, even in my house. The air itself...could eat a human. But that’s not really why I leave.”

 

“Then why? If you wanted him here, you’d keep him here,” Izumi says, stretching before he slides off the bed, scooping up his clothes to dress as he does. “Whether it’s dangerous or not.”

 

Ritsu shrugs, looking away. “Whatever, I’m gonna show you a horse that you’re going to love. And then I’m going to give it to you as a loss leader.”

 

Izumi’s lips purse together as he yanks his boots on, lacing them up swiftly. “Better be a hell of a horse if I came all the way here for you to be close-mouthed and stingy,” he says underneath his breath, straightening up. He ties his hair back, and then promptly swats the back of Ritsu’s head. “If he hates it here and you’re sulking, you can bitch about it. It’s not like I’d tell him.”

 

Ritsu’s mouth twists. He leads the way down the stairs, heading towards the stables. “He doesn’t say anything,” he says quietly. “But he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t have other friends, and he gets mad when I have to do my duties. I...I like it here, you know? But I like it out there, too. I....”

 

He clenches his fists, and lowers his voice. “I’m not going to be able to leave for much longer,” he says quietly. “Not with the political situation up here. Trust me, you do _not_ want someone else’s family running the Shadowlands, not if you care what happens to the North.”

 

“…Forgive my stupidity on this, but I wasn’t even aware there was much of a…political structure here,” Izumi admits, keeping his own voice low. “I knew your brother was in charge—sort of? but he’s not here, so how much can he be?—and I figured it was a matter of ‘whoever is the strongest runs it all.’” He hesitates, then asks the question that’s been bothering him since Ritsu started sucking on his neck: “What about your bond, though? Doesn’t it…bother you?”

 

Ritsu shrugs. “Nah. I’m pretty used to managing all these half-blood cravings, it’s not any worse than that. And he can’t feel it at all, since he’s just a human. But Izumi, you gotta understand, the Demon King? Only controls one thing. Guess what it is.”

 

 _Seriously, that’s not fair._ He’s human, and the itchy, restless insecurity of a _broken_ bond is probably the worst thing in the world. Izumi shrugs, irritated. “Uhh…demons?”

 

Ritsu rolls his eyes. “No. The Demon King controls who everyone’s allowed to feed on. And my stupid brother? He made the rule that no one is allowed to feed outside the current borders. Think about what would happen if someone who didn’t agree with that became King...”

 

“Like you?” Izumi deadpans. “You’ve had me for dinner countless times outside of these borders. Sorry, sorry, I know, I’m being an ass, I get what you’re saying.” He worries at his lower lip, thinking. “Is that really that big of a deal? I thought Shadowlands creatures didn’t travel very often, and even then, it was only really powerful ones that did.”

 

Ritsu snorts. “ _Because_ of the rules. Humans are so sweet...” He drools a little, eyes glazing at the thought. “But only us old ones, and the ones with really high breeding like us, can actually stop ourselves once we start. You can get a special travel permit, I’ve got one.”

 

“Damn. This place is so much more like a regular, obnoxious country than I thought.” Izumi slings an arm around Ritsu’s waist, pulling him sideways to give him an absent squeeze. “If you have to stay put up here, do what you’ve got to do. Mao still works for the Academy; I’ll revive their outpost in the North, and you know your brother will stick him there if you ask. A lot easier for you two to see each other that way, yeah?”

 

Ritsu looks over, meeting Izumi’s eyes for a long moment, then grabs him close and kisses him. “Can’t do _that_ outside in a regular country,” he says smugly. “I can do that wherever I want here. And no one cares what you do inside your own borders. I mean, I guess a lot of people wouldn’t like that, some of the Sidhe folk sure don’t, but....I dunno, I think freedom is better.”

 

“It definitely has an appeal to it,” Izumi mutters, licking his lips as he glances aside, a flush rising to his cheeks. “Does anyone else know? That you’re probably going to have to stay put here soon?”

 

“Brother,” Ritsu mutters. “He warned me. He tried to keep me out of it, you know? He tried to let me know that I could take off, or even disappear completely. But it’s gonna get out that he’s accepted a foreign position soon, and someone’s got to figure out what to do about the plague.”

 

“The plague.” It’s a weary deadpan at best. “What plague, pray tell.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to ride the horse first?” Ritsu asks with a sigh.

 

“…You know, yeah. I’d rather ride the horse than do just about anything right now.” Izumi grabs Ritsu’s face, dragging him close until their foreheads touch. “I will do anything I can to make your job easier here if you make my job easier in the North, and in the Capital,” he seriously says. “Please.”

 

“Anything,” Ritsu says with a shrug. “I don’t have a lot of responsibilities, which is pretty awesome. What’s the problems? Tell me, I’ll figure something out, I have so much energy right now.”

 

“I need eyes. In the Hinterlands. In the North, even. There’s too much going on, political unrest against the Capital, the slave trade, the _weapons_ trade…I even need that extended into the West, because of all the chatter that goes on around Arashi.” Izumi exhales the breath he’d been holding, rocking back onto his heels. “I know you spied for Arashi before. I’m not asking you to do it personally, I just…trust you to find someone that can. No one talks to me.”

 

Ritsu blinks for a minute, then nods. “You want humans, enchanted objects, animals, shapeshifters, what? Lemme break it down. Humans can go most places, but they gotta make up backstories, so they’re best in big cities. It’s also easy for them to send messages, but they have to be coded. Objects, duh, they won’t be suspicious, and you can listen through them whenever you want, I’ll give you some of those and you can put them wherever, but I can’t stop people from picking them up and tossing them away. If you want animals, they’re great in rural areas, and I’ve got plenty that are human-level intelligent, but they suck in cities, even the ones that look like stray dogs. The little rat ones are good, but it takes them forever to get messages out, and if they get stuck somewhere, it takes them a long time to get out. And shapeshifters are the best. They’re my elites. But you’d have to pay them.”

 

“This is why you’re a fucking treat to talk to,” Izumi mutters, visibly relaxing. “All of the above, honestly, but—what kind of payment are your shapeshifters expecting? I’m not going to have to give them a firstborn or something creepy like that, right?”

 

Ritsu hesitates. “I mean...the thing about shapeshifters is...all I can really do is put you into contact with them, I can’t tell them what to do. I know my dumb brother has a couple that he pays in his own hair, and I’ve got one that wants a new horse every two weeks, and my uncle had one that just wanted to hear a new joke every year. So, uh, it’s kind of up to them. They’re...weird. They’re Sidhe from way back, you know? Nah, you probably don’t, but that’s a whooooole other explanation.”

 

“Yeah, I have no clue what that’s about,” Izumi confirms, shrugging. “But sure, put me in touch. I’m not going to turn down any means of assistance at this point. The capital’s not a hospitable place right now, and every single time nobles that hate me are around, I have to be sent out of the city like a child in exile. I’m done taking it quietly.”

 

“I’ll pay for all the others,” Ritsu says dismissively. “Mm, but it might take me a while to contact all the shapeshifters...they don’t really like being summoned, so I’ll have to ride out and contact each one myself. I mean, I _could_ just tell you where they are and you could go by yourself....buuuuuut I’m not sure you could find your way around.”

 

“I’d offer to say ‘fuck it’ and figure it out, but I don’t think I can be away for that long,” Izumi admits. “I’ve already been away from the capital for months—I’m supposed to be heading back now, but first things first.”

 

Ritsu’s eyes glint. “Yeah. And this might just change things for you.”

 

He rounds the bend, and raps on a stable door, swinging it open to reveal a very normal-looking stable--except that the doors and hinges are all reinforced with thick metal bars. “You want the fastest one?” he asks, pausing by one stall. The door goes all the way to the top, with no glimpse of the creature inside. “Or the nicest one?”

 

“Fastest. Northern horses are mean as sin, I don’t need anything nice,” Izumi says without hesitation. The stall doors _do_ make him raise an eyebrow, but not enough to take back his words. “It’s not a mare, is it? Gods, I hate mares, it’d be so cliche for me to ride one…”

 

“It’s a mare,” Ritsu announces, pleased. “And she’s not nice. I call her Bitch. She’s yours now, enjoy.” He strokes a finger down the stall door, and it swings open, revealing a typical half-door, and a stunning, coal-black horse inside. She turns her head, sniffing the air, and her nostrils flare. “Uhhh, have fun, if you’re taking her out I’m running away.”

 

“Why do you call her the same thing you call me?” Izumi snidely quips, though one glance at the horse silences him. He might be drooling a little, and that does make him stupid, even if Ritsu is wary. Maybe just a little authority is all it will take, Vale certainly came around to him quickly… “Maybe it’s a match made in heaven, huh? Come here, pretty. How fast can you get me from here to the Capital, huh?”

 

“Three days,” Ritsu says, stepping back until his back hits the wall. “And you won’t need to rest her. She only eats meat, though.”

 

Bitch turns her head back and forth, then rears in her stall, striking out with a hoof. It slams into the half-door with a brutal impact, leaving a four-inch-deep impact crater. Her ears flick back, and she rears again, letting out a sound that’s almost like a too-human scream.

 

“You know what,” Izumi hastily says, backtracking as quickly as he ever has, “you can shut the door again, that’d be good. I’ll teach her who’s boss later and that’s not today.” Already, he misses Vale, even if he’s less suited for traveling these days. “Is there, ah, a typical way to get on the good sides of death-creatures like these?”

 

“I dunno. Bring her food, I guess.” Ritsu shrugs. “They’re evil. Mm, when I was little, I bit my horse. She liked me after that.”

 

“…Yeah, that sounds like you. Can they interbreed with horses that aren’t from here? Assuming I find a stallion that’s not pissing himself at the sight of her.”

 

“I bet they can. We just don’t usually let them leave, so, you know. Oh, but just so you know, if you manage to get onto her and get her going? She basically won’t stop until you tell her to. And she takes reins pretty well.”

 

“‘If I manage to get onto her’, he says,” Izumi mutters, even as he still admires the horse that definitely wants him dead. “Is she going to try and eat me? Serious question.”

 

“I mean....” Ritsu rolls a shoulder in a lazy circle. “I mean, you won’t die, right?”

 

“You know what, fair enough. Wanna go for a ride?”

 

“Heh, your confidence is _really_ sexy.” Ritsu batts his eyelashes. “Meet me outside. I’d give you a time, but, uh, whenever you can manage it. I’ll be there.”

 

“I aim to please.” Izumi sucks in a breath, bracing himself as he reaches for the latches on the stall door. “See you in a bit, Your Highness.”


	34. Chapter 34

The land never feels right.

 

On the shores of High Harbor, the ocean laps slowly forward during low tide, washing quiet, gentle little waves over him, over and over. It should be refreshing, bringing much-needed air through his gils, but instead, it chokes him, repeatedly flooding his lungs with salty unpleasantness that makes him resent this form all the more.

 

Being forced to play _human_ is not Kanata’s specialty, and that probably will never change.

 

He pouts as he stares up at the star-studded sky, though that ends, too, when another wave flips the long, weaving curls of his hair over and into his face. He continues pouting, but now the moon can’t see, as he sprawls moodily in a shallow tide pool, naked and starting to chill. Perhaps, if he were a little more human, this would be more of an imposition. As it is, he almost hopes he’ll drown—for the greatest irony of ironies. _But then who will take care of Chiaki?_

 

Not that he deserves Chiaki in the state that he’s in now. Kanata burrows further down into the sand, hoping the water will slowly create a tomb around him.

 

“Excuse me? Ah, Ma’am? Or S-sir?”

 

The speaker in question is young, hovering around the age of conscription, with a new-looking uniform just slightly askew on his shoulders. It bears the insignia of the High Harbor Guard (or whatever Defense Ultra Force their Commander is calling it this week), though not the hat of an evening patrolman. The too-bright flush in the man’s face speaks of drink, and nearby giggles from one of the dunes speak of other activities, likely interrupted by the sight of…well, _something_ , on the beach. He adjusts his collar, and asks, “Are you alive? That is, are you all right? I’ll have to report it if it’s a body, oh, gods…”

 

Kanata’s eyes sharpen, glittering slits of green in the dark. He lunges up, grabbing the front of the man’s uniform, right at the insignia, and his long nails nearly lance through the fabric in the process. Oops. “You’re…not Chiaki,” he grumpily says, a lump of seaweed dripping down from his hair and onto his bare thighs. “You should…find him for me…”

 

“M-Morisawa Chiaki? Commander Morisawa?” The young man’s voice stutters, as he tries in vain to make sense of the ethereal, dangerous-seeming creature currently grabbing and clinging to him. “Um, if you want to go to him, I guess I can take you?”

 

“Or…bring him here.” Kanata looks mournfully away, at the waves that keep casually rolling into him. “I don’t…think I want to leave the sea, not yet…”

 

“Ah…” The man scratches the back of his head, looking apprehensive. “U-um, the Commander is a very important man, I don’t know…is there a name I can give him?”

 

“Kanata.” Kanata’s stare bores straight through the man. “If you don’t bring him…I’ll eat you.”

 

There isn’t the slightest doubt in the man’s mind that this strange creature, washed up on the beach and looking at him with fathomless eyes, means what he says. Without another word, he turns tail and dashes away as fast as he can, leaving a chorus of confused protests from the dunes behind him.

 

The first rays of dawn haven’t brightened the sky when footsteps sound, and Commander Morisawa of the High Harbor Infinitely Wonderful Defensive Protection Squad (this week) races onto the dunes, sand flying with every strike of his feet. If the young soldier had been in disarray, the Commander is nearly undressed, clearly having been dragged out of his bed. He wears only underpants and a long cloak, but the light in his eyes burns bright enough to outshine the moon. “Kanata!” he yells, when he’s only a hundred meters away, closing fast even on the slippery sand. “You—you’re back!”

 

Kanata, mournfully lamenting the tide escaping even further from him, jerks to attention the second he hears Chiaki’s voice. “Chiakiiiiii,” he whines, pushing himself up onto his hands, unwilling to rise to his feet just yet when he’s created a decent enough indentation in the sand, filled with water that sates a sliver of his need to be submerged. Maybe Chiaki won’t think he looks _too_ strange like this, minus the scales and fins he’s so accustomed to, but he still feels miserably out of his element. Chiaki looks as perfect as always, and Kanata’s lower lip wobbles as he stretches out one hand. “You took too _long._ ” 

 

Chiaki doesn’t hesitate for a breath before leaping to Kanata’s side, arms going around him in a blazing hot, crushing hug that uses all of his strength, as if he’s too overwhelmed to do anything less. He buries his face in the wet skin, breath coming in deep, shuddering gasps, and for long moments, he can’t even speak, just stands and holds and _breathes_. “You’re home,” he finally chokes out, not releasing him in the slightest. “You came back to me.”

 

Ahh, that’s better, that’s so _much_ better.

 

Even if Chiaki is so human, so very, very human, maybe he can feel it, if he’s acting this way? Kanata clings to Chiaki’s neck, burying his face into his shoulder. The warmth radiating from him is already so much that it feels like it’ll dry up what moisture is left on his body, but Kanata cares little when he can soak in _Chiaki,_ and how warm and good and _his_ he is.

 

“I told you…I would,” he softly says, squeezing Chiaki’s shoulders slowly. “Mm, Chiaki…I can’t go back to the sea right now…so you have to take care of me…okay?”

 

Some odd ripple of power goes through Chiaki, something that he hasn’t felt in what feels like a decade, though logically he knows Kanata hasn’t been gone for _that_ long. It eases something in him, fills a spot he hadn’t known he was empty, soothes an ache he hadn’t known was sore, with such a rush of relief that he nearly sobs.

 

The throbbing, distracting loneliness that feels as if it’s about to crush him at any moment, hovering over his head like a boulder supported by a single string, rolls slowly back.

 

Chiaki takes a deep breath, and nods, pulling back at last and beaming. “Of course! Here, here, you can stay with me, I brought you a cloak, are you well enough to walk? I don’t mind carrying you—you’re taller than me, have you always been taller than me? Ahh, the maids are going to have a field day, ha ha ha!”

 

Kanata stumbles fully to his feet, swaying a little before plopping forward against Chiaki again. “Legs…are no good,” he crossly says, pouting at him. A tiny crab slowly crawls its way out of his sea-washed hair, and Kanata gingerly picks it out—then eats it, downing it in one fell swoop without chewing. “I haven’t…resembled a human…in a long time.”

 

Chiaki removes the heavy mantled cloak from his shoulders without a second’s pause, swirling it around Kanata’s shoulders, fastening the ends together at his chest. “I don’t have to worry about your scales when I hug you now,” he says softly, eyes shining as he snakes an arm around Kanata’s waist, holding him close as he walks, slowly, one foot in front of the other. “Just let me know if you want me to carry you, but getting used to those legs is probably good!”

 

Kanata’s pouting continues, but being squished up in Chiaki’s cloak and against his side _is_ nice, especially when he doesn’t have to be afraid of cutting him just by breathing. “This is…fine,” he settles upon, watching his feet as he walks, a little entranced by his own footsteps in the sand after so long. “Ah…the pretty snake…has he been taking care of you? I told him to…or else. I didn’t want you to be…so lonely…”

 

The thought of Izumi is a strange one, as always for Chiaki. A small flush comes to his face, and he nods, matching his pace to Kanata’s almost unconsciously, loving the way their bodies fit together, even like this, even after so long. “He’s very generous with his time, whenever he can get here. It’s been totally helpful! I hope…things are going better in your kingdom, and that’s why they could spare you?” The hope in his voice is near pleading, even as his instincts tell him he’s absolutely off the mark.

 

Kanata shakes his head slowly, a frown slowly making its way across his face. “No,” he softly says, his brow furrowing. “Worse. They…sent me away, because it’s so bad…and scary. They think…if I get hurt…that’ll be the end, so I…had to come here, to fix it.”

 

Chiaki exhales slowly, a shadow on his features. “All right. No matter what happens, I will be worthy of your people’s trust, and keep you safe, with my own life in exchange if I must. Though…” His tone softens, and he adds, almost shyly, “Though I’d rather not have to die, since I’m only now getting to see you again.”

 

“Chiaki won’t die,” Kanata says firmly, pausing to twist in Chiaki’s arms and grasp his face in his hands. He’s careful with his nails—cutting Chiaki is _not_ acceptable—even when he gently squeezes his cheeks. “It’s…not allowed. I’ll keep _you_ safe, too. Chiaki’s mine, after all…”

 

Chiaki’s smile is warmer than any hug, warmer than any hearth fire. He doesn’t even bother looking around to see if they’re alone before he leans down, brushing his lips over Kanata’s in a gentle kiss that speaks of relief, of grateful rest, of a love that’s been eating him alive for long, lonely months. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep us safe. So we can keep everyone else safe.”

 

Kanata nods, then promptly lurches forward to kiss him again, deeply and with exactly zero abandon. “Ah…this is good,” he settles upon when he releases Chiaki, licking at his lips. “The only good thing…about this form. I don’t hurt you, when we touch.”

 

Chiaki kisses him again, just once, before letting go with a boyish grin, taking him by the waist again and leading him towards the barracks. “I never minded when you did. A pure love like ours can endure any wounds!”

 

“But _I_ minded,” Kanata pouts, trailing along next to him, slowly getting the hang of walking like a human again. “I still have my teeth…but I have to make them appear now. Mm, Chiaki…I have to contact Rei…so he knows, about everything.” He hesitates, then adds, far more quietly, “We probably can’t stay here, for very long…it’s dangerous, for me to be so close to the sea…”

 

“Here on the beach? Not to worry, we’re on our way into the city!”

 

“No, in this city. It’s too close, all of it.”

 

Chiaki visibly deflates. But what’s the point in protesting what must be? He shakes himself, steels his shoulders, and nods. “I’ll send a messenger to Rei immediately. Will one day be all right?”

 

“Mm. One day…is fine, if I’m with you.” Kanata’s eyes lid. “Chiaki…if I leave, you’ll leave with me.”

 

“Yes.” It’s not even a question, without a heartbeat of hesitation. “I have brave, strong men and women to watch my city. My place is at your side. Ahhh, this will be a great opportunity for my Lieutenant to show his stuff.”

 

Kanata flops against him a bit in relief. “I thought Chiaki would argue,” he sighs. “But instead…Chiaki is as good, as always. The city…it already feels unwell, you can’t stay here, not now. The demons, they’re hungry…but it’s not their fault.”

 

“Ah, you’re giving me too much credit,” Chiaki protests, though there’s a smile on his face. “It’s only—well, if there’s one thing I learned from my last adventure at your side, it’s that you’ll be where the monsters are most dangerous, and that’s where I’ll need to be! Why don’t we just feed the demons, and then they can go back to sleeping peacefully?”

 

Kanata shakes his head again. “They aren’t coming here to feed,” he quietly says, clutching at Chiaki’s arm. “The pathways…they’re open…because of humans. So demons drift in…and they feed, because humans are tasty…and then they can’t stop. It’s bad. The more and more pathways open, the more the _bad_ demons will come…but the humans doing it…they don’t care. Even in the isles, it’s…no good.” 

 

“Humans? It’s people that are bringing them?” Chiaki sighs, looking down at his feet as they walk. “That’s so sad, they probably have no idea what kind of trouble they’re causing. Do you know where they are? I’ll let them know to stop, right away.”

 

“They know what they’re doing. It’s…the ones that trade human slaves…the ones Rei has been trying to stop. They don’t care and…and worse, they try to capture creatures, if they think they will be useful.” Kanata huffs. “Bad. They’re all bad.”

 

Chiaki’s face falls, and his mouth settles into a grim line. It’s an expression that his men both long and quail to see, when he drops the mantle of The Fool and becomes truly The Commander, someone that even the most hardened of criminals know to avoid. “I can’t forgive anyone who trades in the misery of others for profit,” he says softly. “I’ll teach them that this is unacceptable.”

 

“No one…will want to listen.” Kanata swallows, glancing down at his feet again. “So…we’ll have to make them…or other humans will think…it’s the Shadowlands, or…my clan, of the waves…but it’s just more humans. Rei said last…in the Hinterlands, or in the Sandlands, that’s where it has to be…dealt with.” His expression turns sulky. “Too cold and too hot…both are bad, and not wet.”

 

Chiaki’s arm tightens around Kanata’s waist, tucking the cloak in more tightly as they reach the barracks, heading for his rooms. “I remember how to take care of your scales from before, is it so different now? You always had a few…but this, this is so new…”

 

Kanata shakes his head firmly, his full head of hair flopping. “No scales,” he unhappily says. “Or gills. Not even toe-webs. I’m…a disguised fish. Chiaki, it’s no good.”

 

“But you don’t need to swim on land, right? So it’s…it’s all right for a short time?” Maybe if Chiaki acts excited, some of it will bleed through to help Kanata be more excited, too, even if what he feels is less excited and more desperate panic at the thought of him leaving again. “We’ll have fun! Death and destruction and mayhem notwithstanding!”

 

“Human feet…are ugly, though. Why do you have that many toes.”

 

“I have no idea, haha! Maybe for grabbing things that you drop?”

 

“………No. Not that.”

 

“For balance, maybe?”

 

“But…I’m not balanced,” Kanata complains, pitching against Chiaki’s side to make a point. “Do I…have to wear clothes…that sounds very not good.”

 

“We’ll make it fun!” Chiaki insists, easily walking Kanata up the stairs to his room. “We’ll pick plenty of clothes that are fun for you to wear, and you’ll look very beautiful in them, and handsome, and cool!”

 

Kanata’s nose wrinkles. “But…if I’m with Chiaki…being naked is better, I think. Ah, I can finally be in _your_ bed…not just in the sea…so _that’s_ good…”

 

Chiaki gives him a smile, leading him to his door and popping up the latch. He doesn’t bother with a key, rarely does, since the only things he has that he considers worth stealing are the things he’d gladly give or lend to anyone in the barracks in any case. The first rays of dawn are just breaking through the window as he leads Kanata inside, reaching for the clasp of the cloak. “Then don’t let me burden you with this right now, hmm?”

 

Kanata heaves a sigh of relief, shaking himself off much like a fish would leaping out of the water. He loses his balance afterwards, flopping back into Chiaki’s bed in a heap. In the actual light, it’s much more apparent that there isn’t a single scale or strange fish part on his body—just pale skin and long, lean limbs, with the heavy, tangled tumble of oddly blue hair falling down his back and into his face. The only _especially_ dangerous thing is still his nails, long and narrow and sharp as claws, but even the excuse of simply not having clipped them in some time could be given to explain them away. “Chiakiiii.” He reaches out a grabbing hand. “Come heeere.”

 

Chiaki moves forward as if he were on a string, in a way that would be called _helpless_ if he were any less eager. He crawls onto the bed, hands and legs straddling Kanata, enveloping him safely in the cradle of Chiaki’s body, where he’s longed for this man in particular for so long. “It’s nice to see you when my eyes are open, too,” he says softly, brushing a still-wet tendril of hair back from Kanata’s face. “I’m so, so glad you’re home, Kanata.”

 

Kanata exhales a long, pleased breath, wrapping his arms around Chiaki as tightly as they can go. Chiaki isn’t the sea, but he’s as good as the sea, even if he’s so _much_ warmer. The satisfying, healthy pulse of that bond makes him shiver and relax, his too-many human toes curling. “Maybe…it’s okay to be human for a little while,” he quietly says, staring up at Chiaki with eyes that never seem to fully adjust to the light in the room. “If I get Chiaki.”

 

Chiaki grins, and moves to give Kanata another kiss just as deep, just as hungry, but unrushed. They have time now, for a little while. And he’d certainly used up his quota of embarrassing neediness, during their last time together ( _clutching, grasping, salt in both their mouths, bodies frantic_ ). Now, it feels like he has all day to hold and touch, and he takes his time, enjoying each kiss as much as possible. “If you’re from the ocean,” he murmurs, eyes lidded, “why does being near you feel like taking my first breath in years?”

 

“Because we’re not supposed to be apart,” Kanata hums, stretching out his legs slowly and shamelessly wrapping them around Chiaki to keep him close. Maybe they can still work as tentacles. “Even if you’re human…there’s still magic in you that makes you mine…that’s how it is.” His hans slowly pet down Chiaki’s back, gentle but no less possessive. “My Chiaki, mine.”

 

“I thought I felt it less, because I’m human,” Chiaki says softly, moving to kiss Kanata’s cheek, his chin, his neck, shoulder, chest, any part of him that his mouth can reach. “If that’s true…I don’t know how wizards stand it. You’re so strong…”

 

“You were with me a lot before…maybe that built up…or…nnh, something like that…” Kanata sighs, letting his head loll back as his fingers drag up through Chiaki’s hair, mussing it the wrong way. “But it hurt sooo much this time…Chiakiii, we can’t be apart ever again…”

 

“Then you can’t go back to the sea,” Chiaki reminds him gently. “We’ll have to think of a better solution, hmm? Ah, at least we’ve got a little while….ahhhh, Kanata, that feels good, your nails….”

 

“Mmn, not too sharp?” Kanata tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip, which already feels too dry now that he’s on land. “Gotta ask Rei,” he mutters, his brow furrowed. “He…and Shu…they figured out a thing. It was so Rei could go and…be Rei…but…still…maybe it’s less painful…”

 

“I don’t need anyone else.”

 

The words are quiet, but firm, and Chiaki’s eyes blaze when he says them, curling a hand around one of Kanata’s hands, squeezing it. “The physical relief with Lord Izumi was…fine, it was fun and as good as it could be, but…it’s not _you_. Being near you—that’s all I need, to feel complete.”

 

Kanata’s lower lip wobbles before he throws his arms tightly around Chiaki again, squeezing him until he hears his own bones pop. It’s such a relief to be able to meld himself against him again, to the point that even stupid things escape his tongue. “I don’t need the sea…if there’s you,” he sniffs. “Chiaki…I know it’s bad…but when they told me I had to leave…and come here…I was glad, because _you’re_ here…”

 

“Hmm? What’s bad about that?” Chiaki doesn’t even blink at the tight squeeze, just smiling down at Kanata, “I’m glad there’s a reason for you to be yourself again. I can’t stop thinking about you trapped under the sea, far away from all of your friends, made to wear a different form for so long…”

 

“If you talk to _them_ …they would say I was being trapped here,” Kanata moodily says, stuffing his face into Chiaki’s neck. “Maybe I won’t miss my family. Maybe I’ll stay here…and marry Chiaki.”

 

“Mm, I’d be a very lucky man,” Chiaki says seriously. He reaches for a blanket, then pauses before he tugs it over the two of them. “Do you still get overheated at night? Ah, you’re probably tired, it was _very_ presumptuous of me to try to, ah, make advances when you’re obviously worn out…”

 

Kanata, wordlessly, rolls them, pinning Chiaki flat onto his back. “Chiaki should let me eat him,” he bluntly says. “Before the sun gets too high and I get crispy like a fish left on the beach.”

 

Chiaki’s smile is mischievous, and he quirks an eyebrow up at Kanata, before raising one leg, looping it around Kanata’s waist. “All demons get hungry and need to feed, right?” he asks, one corner of his mouth curling up. “Your way of snacking has always been something I don’t object to…”

 

“Goood, because Chiaki’s mine.” Kanata’s eyes lid as he wriggles up between Chiaki’s legs, mouthing over his shoulders, his neck. His hair, still moist at the ends, drips against Chiaki’s chest, sticking to him like odd little curls of seaweed. “This demon’s reeeeal hungry…no Chiaki for months…not good.”

 

A shiver that has nothing to do with water or wetness goes through Chiaki’s body, rippling up his spine, making him twist and shudder under Kanata’s weight. Kanata feels larger somehow than he had before he’d left, a solid weight of a man between his thighs, and just that thought after so long makes his eyelids flutter. He drags his hands down Kanata’s back, parting his thighs to cradle Kanata’s hips, squeezing them around him. “Mm…then I hope I taste good enough to appease the beast,” he whispers, eyes alight with the possibilities.

 

Being tangled up in nothing but Chiaki makes Kanata feel almost drunk after so long. That kind of magic isn’t something to toy with, but Kanata drinks it in all the same, the heat of that vibrant bond making his breath catch every time he as much as presses a fresh kiss to Chiaki’s skin. “You always do~…” he sighs, nuzzling up into Chiaki’s hair as he rocks down, familiarizing himself with the silly mechanics of a human body. Well, some things aren’t _so_ different…it’s just the legs that feel in the way still, after so long of not bothering with them, but relearning comes naturally in moments like these. His fingers slowly drag down Chiaki’s chest, stroking lean muscle underneath soft, soft skin. “Chiakis taste the best after a little wait like this, I think…”

 

Chiaki loves Kanata more than the sun, more than air, far more than his own life—but being eager and willing to live or die for someone’s happiness doesn’t mean that person is never scary. Deep down, Chiaki is fairly certain that Kanata will eat him, one day.

 

Not that that gives him the slightest pause.

 

He winds his arms around Kanata’s neck, one hand tangling in the long strands of damp hair surrounding him like a curtain, the other tracing over the lean, flat planes of Kanata’s muscles. “You got bigger,” he murmurs. “You’d be a fine soldier now, I think…”

 

Kanata grumbles at that, and responds by swiftly sinking his teeth into Chiaki’s shoulder. Perhaps they aren’t the serrated little knives they usually are, but his teeth are still sharp enough to draw blood with a little bit of pressure. “Nope,” he says, pulling back, licking the little drops of bright red away from his lips. “Wizard only. Swords and things, not for me…”

 

He shifts, sighing out a shaky breath as his swiftly hardening cock rubs against the inside of Chiaki’s thigh. “Off,” he murmurs, plucking at Chiaki’s underthings with his nails. “Clothes are no good.”

 

Chiaki’s breath catches at the absentminded little order, blood pulsing through his veins in a way that would be predictable, if it hadn’t been so long since the last time. He kicks off his underwear with record speed, somehow managing not to feel vulnerable even with Kanata acting so clearly predatory. _Well, why not? He only wants to stake his claim, after all. And I’ve always been his._

 

He kisses Kanata’s neck, legs parting again as he reaches to the side of the bed, grabbing a rather thick-bottommed bottle and passing it over. Then, after a moment of looking at Kanata’s nails, he takes it back. “Um, shall I?”

 

“Oh. Mm. Yes.” Kanata sits back as a mock picture of patience, his eyes lidded and hungry, pale skin faintly flushed as he watches Chiaki from underneath his lashes. “Sorry. Even if we cut them…they’ll be like this…mmn, that could be _more_ human, I guess.”

 

Chiaki laughs, tipping a practiced bit of oil onto his hand, a few overeager drops spilling onto his belly as he does. “That’s why we’ve got four hands between us, isn’t it? You…it looks like you have, ah, a pretty good view from there, eh?” His fingers slip down between his thighs, and despite long practice, his breath catches at the first eager press inside himself.

 

“Mmhm.” Kanata’s breath hitches, his fingers curling slowly into the sheets underneath him as he watches, overeager and forcibly restraining himself. “Chiaki…always looks like he enjoys it so much…it makes me want to eat you even more, you know?”

 

“It’s good…to get nice and hungry before you eat, right?” Chiaki hardly manages to get the words out, as worked up as he is. It’s definitely from being observed, and because it’s _Kanata_ , and because it’s been a while, because just this much is usually not enough to make him so tense and shivery. Now, though…the weight of Kanata’s eyes bore into him, and he gulps, biting his lip as he works two fingers into himself, spreading slick oil where it’ll be needed most. He licks his lip, looking up at Kanata, all shyness consumed by the hunger aching through him. “That’s…probably enough waiting, for me. How about you?”

 

“Yep, Chiaki’s gotta be dinner now.”

 

Kanata moves fast when he wants, flipping Chiaki in short order, pressing him down into the bed with a hand between his shoulderblades. “Chiaki…looks so _good_ like that,” he breathes, pressing a wet, sucking kiss to the back of his neck, nuzzling up into his hair. His cock, hard and eager, slides up against the cleft of Chiaki’s ass, the flushed head of it catching against his hole, and it’s slick enough that even a small arch of his hips makes it easy to sink inside. “Mine…you’re miiiine…”

 

His own fingers notwithstanding, it’s been a _while_ since something has pressed into Chiaki like this, thick and solid and so hot—but maybe that’s his own body, reacting to the sweet, precious feeling of Kanata rocking up where he belongs, sliding home after so long apart. He sucks in a breath, trying to form coherent thoughts when his entire existence feels narrowed to all the places they’re touching. He shifts, teeth set against the worn cotton of his pillowcase, biting down when Kanata slides in hard in an attempt to muffle his groan. Setting his knees farther apart helps. It gives him more leverage, lets him rock back onto Kanata, forearms braced against the bed. It may have been years, but it feels familiar, enough that the thick stretch of Kanata into him doesn’t hurt nearly so much as it feels like something that _should_ be. “Every…part of me,” he agrees, and bites down on the pillow in a failed attempt to keep his voice down.

 

 _This_ part of being human Kanata remembers, knows well, and relishes.

 

Kanata’s hips grind forward until they slap against skin, and he pants out, wet and breathy, into Chiaki’s hair. His fingers curl into the sheets next to Chiaki’s head, doing all that he can not to actually claw into Chiaki’s flesh—though it would be so easy, so, _so_ easy when they’re like this—

 

“Chiakii…don’t keep your voice down…” The heat of Chiaki’s body around him is maddening, and Kanata thrusts in hard, deep, covering Chiaki’s body with his own as his mouth finds his neck again. Maybe he bites and sucks a little too roughly, but he can’t help it when it’s been so _long._

 

Chiaki’s thighs are tense, his back bowed tight as a bowstring, and it’s all he can do to keep from losing himself the second Kanata slides in deep. He twists, getting a hand under himself to grab his own cock—not to stroke, but to squeeze at the base, to keep it from being over too quickly. “You—want me to be so shameless,” he groans, thumb meeting fingers around the base of his cock, thighs trembling at the slick press of Kanata inside of him. “M-my men…”

 

“Don’t care about them,” Kanata pants into his ear, scooting his knees up closer for more leverage as he grinds deep inside. He barely pulls out with each thrust, savoring how it feels to be so deeply buried in that tight, slick heat, and he finally can’t stop himself from needing to _touch_ Chiaki, too. His fingers rake through Chiaki’s hair before fisting into it, tugging his head back as he thrusts in. “They can be jealous…about how good Chiaki feels, right~?”

 

The shift in Kanata’s weight makes Chiaki brace against the bed, both hands digging into the thin bedding. It’s almost impossible to keep his voice down when Kanata is in him so far he swears he can feel the other man’s pulse inside of him, but he tries, the thought of some of his Lieutenants overhearing him enough to keep his mouth shut. “When we’re traveling,” he promises, voice rough and thick with pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as he rocks back with every thrust, “we can do this—under the stars—and I’ll be as loud as you want, I—ah!”

 

Kanata rocks in just right, and Chiaki doesn’t have time to stifle his cry before he’s spilling onto the bed, clenching and shivering around the sweet thickness buried deep in him.

 

Kanata lunges, his teeth clamping down into the curve of Chiaki’s shoulder, biting down hard enough that he tastes blood, warm and brilliantly sharp on his tongue. The taste alone makes him shudder, and his next few thrusts aren’t gentle when he grinds in hard, thrusting into Chiaki’s shivering body, grabbing at him with long fingers to hold him close.

 

Coming in Chiaki takes his breath away. It feels like his very pulse pours into Chiaki’s body with every drip—but more than anything, it’s like a recharge, the shivery little threads of magic inside of him swelling to the brim again. “Chiaki…is so…soooo good,” Kanata finally sighs, slumping against him, nuzzling up into Chiaki’s hair even with blood still staining his lips. “Nnnn…Chiaki makes me feel…whole again…”

 

Something ephemeral tugs at Chiaki, filling little holes, feeling as if a warm blanket has been tossed over his soul. It’s a feeling so familiar, but he’s never been able to give it a name before. That had been before he’d missed it so much, and feeling it again—how had he lived without? The pain in his shoulder is nothing; if anything, it feels like just another way for Kanata’s entire being to filter into him, patching all the places he’d been crumbling. The pillow under Chiaki is damp with sweat, saliva, and tears when he nuzzles back, even as he starts to twitch and squeeze around Kanata’s spent cock. “As good as you remembered?” he asks softly, eyes shining in the dim light.

 

“Even better.” Kanata slowly twists, pulling Chiaki back with him as he lets his cock slip out. He spoons up against him, licking and nuzzling at where he bit, the teeth marks left behind looking far more like some kind of vicious sea creature took a bite far more than a human. “Later, a message to Rei,” he murmurs. “Now, sleep.”

 

Chiaki lets him drift off, waiting until their heartbeats are in sync, Kanata’s breathing easy and slow. Then he carefully extricates himself from the tangle of limbs, slipping out of the bed to dress, straightening his uniform in his small, cloudy mirror. The high collar covers any incriminating marks on his neck, and he strikes one pose, designed to inspire awe and terror from the workers of evil, before nodding to himself and heading out for the day.

 

The messenger he chooses is a small man, but brimming with energetic power, the yellow insignia of a Corporal shining freshly-polished on his breast. He writes out a quick missive, and folds it into an envelope, handing it over to the Corporal with strict instructions to _Find the wizard named Rei, give this into him, sacrifice your life if you must, but if you do, I will cry!_

 

**Rei:**

 

**Hi, my friend! This is Chiaki Morisawa. I hope you remember me. Our mutual blue friend has emerged. Things are bad! We’ll be heading to the places where things are bad.**

 

“Don’t show it to anyone but him,” he instructs firmly. “This is suuuuper top secret!”

 

“Yes, sir!” Shinobu quivers in his boots, the enormity of the responsibility making him eager, terrified, and excited all at once. “You can count on me!”

 

With that, and a _tatatatatatata_ sound of running, he’s gone, disappearing to emerge on the road a moment later, darting from tree to tree, taking cover from supposed enemy fire (or possibly bright sunshine).


	35. Chapter 35

Izumi doesn’t want to make a stop in High Harbor, but needs must.

 

“I said I’d return this damn net, so,” he says with a shrug, outright avoiding saying who the net belongs to. Maybe if he doesn’t invoke that name, he won’t feel so… _off_ every single time he does.

 

The Academy research outpost in High Harbor is bolstered against any and all manner of sea storms, and the magic radiating off of the high, limestone walls makes his horrific mare snort and squeal, uninterested in even _remotely_ approaching. The closer he gets, the worst Izumi feels, admittedly; his horse is onto something, even if she’s only complaining about magic that he can’t feel. “Arashi,” he quietly says as he dismounts, tying his mare to the post outside. “Stop me if I get stupid.”

 

For his part, Arashi feels nothing but cheerful, though that cheer is overshadowed by the usual tinge of worry for Mika, all alone (with Shu) down in the Sandlands. It’s easy to tell what Izumi means, even if he’s carefully avoiding saying it. “I’ll just take it in for you,” he suggests. “Ahh, do you think Mika would like one of those little shells? He—oi, watch your hellbeast! She almost took a chunk out of my princess!”

 

“She’s flirting,” Izumi deadpans, hefting the bag enclosing the net over his shoulder. “You can’t go in without me, I’m the one with approved access. And no, Mika wouldn’t like one of those little shells, unless something was still living and slimy inside of it. You know how he is.”

 

“…Yeah,” Arashi allows with a sigh. “That’s why we’ve got _this_ , after all.” He shoots a dirty look towards The Crate, on a low wheeled platform being towed by his horse. “You sure you can’t get me in as well? I won’t be much good to stop you if I’m not there.”

 

“Stop sulking about that thing, I told you it wasn’t my idea,” Izumi wearily says. “You can come in with me, just not without me. If you have to hit me, just not my face, all right? I can’t believe I have to remind you, but you always seem to go straight for it.”

 

He turns away for the stairs, and that terrible, unsettled feeling increases with every step that he takes. The enormous, wooden doors thrum with enough protective energy that even he can feel it, and he hesitates, reaching out to touch the door handle with gloved fingers.

 

The energy dims, dulls, and the lock turns without his encouragement. “Sometimes, magic is still _so_ much,” he mutters, pushing the door open and nodding for Arashi to follow. “Why was that necessary? Just give me a key and only me a key, you know? Yuukun, you around?”

 

“Uaaah!”

 

The voice comes out terribly startled, and there’s an accompanying crash, as of a chair tipping over. Arashi raises his eyebrows, and in the next moment, a flustered Makoto makes his way out to see them, ducking his head. At the sight of Arashi, he relaxes. “A-ah, Sir Izumi, you brought a friend, eh? That’s nice…” His eyes dart around the room, fingers twitching as if attempting to grab at something long since snatched away.

 

Arashi doesn’t let out a whistle, but it’s a close thing. This is a very different Makoto from the young wizard he remembers. His eyes are shadowed, and he’s an anxious, twitchy thing.

 

Here comes the part Izumi hates more than anything.

 

It’s the moment when dread turns to something hopeful. Maybe, _maybe_ he can make Makoto feel better just by being here—that’s the point, isn’t it? Maybe if he’s as affectionate and doting as he should have always been, maybe—“Yuukun—you look stressed, aren’t you taking care of yourself?” he scolds, sweeping closer. “Have you been following that plan I left with you last time? Ugh, judging by how your skin looks, I doubt it.”

 

“Izumi,” Arashi warns, grabbing the back of his shirt to hold him back. “Don’t come on too strong, you know how you get.”

 

Makoto jerks back, eyes wide. “Ah, I have been, it’s—it’s been hard, the last week or so, I might have missed a couple treatments…I guess? Aha, I haven’t been sleeping too much, I guess…”

 

Izumi growls, jerking against Arashi’s hold. Every logical line of thought in his mind says _stop it, stop it, you’re going to scare him!_ , but logic isn’t exactly the driving force behind his actions. “Why haven’t you been sleeping?” he demands, tossing the net onto the ground, his sole purpose of being here decidedly forgotten. “Has someone been bothering you? Yuukun, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

 

“There’s—don’t you feel it?” Makoto’s eyes dart around, and one of his hands moves to his opposite elbow, scratching idly. Other scratches are obvious there, along with a few healing scabs. “Something’s in the air. Something big, scary…ah, sorry, it’s a magic thing, I shouldn’t bother you with something like this.”

 

With strength that _really_ defies logic, Izumi yanks himself out of Arashi’s hold, needing to have his hands on Makoto. “Whatever it is, I _will_ protect you,” he firmly says, grabbing Makoto by the shoulders to force him to look at him. “Even if it’s magic—you can leave, you know? I’ll take you somewhere safe, you won’t have to feel it, you don’t have to even _think_ about it—“

 

“I will literally throw you out his window,” Arashi growls, looping an arm around Izumi’s neck and getting him into a firm hold that not even a real snake could escape from. “Sorry, Excellency. I’m trying to keep him under control.”

 

“A-ah, it’s fine, I’m sorry to be a burden, Lord Arashi,” Makoto says hastily. “It’s…this is my duty, to be here and be researching. I won’t leave just because of a few bad dreams.”

 

“Let me go!” Izumi hisses, clawing at Arashi’s arm in his haste to be touching Makoto again. If he’s _touching_ him, it almost feels like there’s something there still, _almost_. “You don’t understand, look at him, he _needs_ me—“

 

“Ahh…this is where _that’s_ coming from…”

 

Rather than turn as it had with Izumi’s ‘approved’ touch, the lock on the door simply falls off, clattering to the ground. “Oops,” Kanata’s soft, breathy voice offers as he sidles inside, his head of still untamed, sea-crimped hair making a statement before he himself enters, tall and willowy and draped in muslin that isn’t too confining, plus an enormous, black cloak. “Rei can fix that…later. There’s looooots of loose magic here…”

 

Makoto breaks into a sweat, and brings his hands up in front of his body, stepping swiftly in front of Izumi. His wrists cross in front of his body, and he forms two fists, startled into defensive magic, a shield shimmering into life in front of them. “G-go,” he whispers, eyes showing white all the way around, though his stance is steady. What the stranger is exactly, he has no idea, though a deep quake in his bones warns him that this is one of the Old Ones, a creature so powerful that even its diluted bloodline is enough to wreak havoc on the world. “I can’t hold him for long, but—maybe if you’re fast—“

 

Kanata blinks a few times, his head tilting. “Ahh…you’ve misunderstood. I’m not here…to eat you,” he cheerfully says. “Just some of the bad magic, maybe…my name is Kanata…you’re…a Dawncloak, aren’t you?” He reaches out, plucking out strands of magic that obviously only he can see in the air, and unravels Makoto’s shield without as much of a bang. It dissolves, literally, to a puddle. He reaches past it, patting Makoto’s head with a moist hand. “There, there, that’s a good boy, don’t be scared.”

 

“… _Kanata?_ ” Izumi echoes, staring at the other man with disbelief. He stops trying to claw his way out of Arashi’s hold in favor of really, _really_ looking, and—“But you’re…not a fish.”

 

“Mmhm, not a fish, not right now…it’s just meee…but human-y…I’m glad you’re well now, Not-angel-not-ogre-kinda-human,” Kanata greets Arashi with a smile, still petting Makoto’s hair. “The last time I saw you…your insides were on the outside.”

 

Arashi stares at the stranger for a long moment, and then realization dawns. “Ahhh—you’re the the fish-man! You saved my life!”

 

Makoto holds perfectly still, the way he hears helps when there’s a giant predator around. If what the man says is true, he’s not exactly one of the Old Ones—but he’s a _Nightcloak_ , which is easily as terrifying. “P-pleased to m-meet you, yes, ah, I’m a D-Dawncloak, sir—um, Excellency—“

 

“Kanata,” Kanata correct dreamily, petting Makoto’s hair still. He pauses, then looks between Izumi and Makoto before frowning. “That’s _definitely_ what it is,” he says, and he reaches out with one clawed hand, seemingly at nothing.

 

Suddenly, it feels like those claws are raking down his spine. Izumi gasps, feeling as if the air is knocked out of him when whatever Kanata is _pulling_ on flutters into his vision when that doesn’t _seem_ to make sense. Tattered, frayed pieces of gold, like the end of a coiled cord, cut poorly and unsealed and fraying with every single touch, all of it shimmers before his eyes before Kanata spins it all into a ball, no matter how it seems to both tug on himself and Makoto from either end.

 

…before he pops it right into his mouth, chomping into it with teeth that Izumi _swears_ look strangely long and sharp and terrifyingly like some creature from the deepest ends of the ocean for a moment.

 

Just as quickly as it came, that uncomfortable touch is gone, and with it—silence. Odd, simple silence, something that Izumi can’t remember having for years. He blinks, sagging where Arashi holds him, blinks again, and then looks over to Makoto. That strange, agonizing pull, that ache that he can’t quite put a finger to—it’s _gone_ , and that’s both confusing and… _such_ a relief that it brings tears sharply to his eyes.

 

“Better?” Kanata asks, patting the sides of Makoto’s face. “You can’t be a strong wizard like that…that was nooo good.”

 

Makoto’s eyes are glazed entirely over, the cessation of empty pain so abrupt that it’s almost an opiate. He staggers, staring up at Kanata with a wide, wondering expression that steals his breath in deep, shuddering gasps. “I…what did…”

 

His head turns slowly, and he takes in Izumi’s sagging profile. He blinks, and a rush of memory slams into him, as if it’s been blocked or walled off for years. “Izumi,” he whispers, and the word doesn’t just mean the strange and confusing man he’s recently met, but his childhood friend, his old protector, the man who had been his _first_ , the brave knight he’d somehow saved from death. “W-what’s happening?”

 

Izumi’s head jerks up, and he squeezes Arashi’s arm, very firmly. “Let me go,” he quietly orders.

 

Magic, after all this time, still startles Arashi. He lets go, creeped out enough by the Nightcloak’s assessment of _him_ to do as he’s told. “You knew? Even then?” he asks quietly. “Or did you learn after? No one else…has been able to tell.”

 

Izumi stumbles over, grabbing Makoto by the shoulders with trembling hands before simply crushing him to his chest. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

Kanata drifts away after patting Makoto’s head a last time, smiling as he shrugs. “You tasted…like Shu’s friend,” he says. “And like the Tyrant. So I guessed. I know that I’m right, though…if you really want me to check, I can take another bite?”

 

Arashi starts to answer in the negative, but can’t really trust that he’ll be heard over the sudden wail that makes its way out of Makoto’s throat as he hurls himself at Izumi’s chest, no matter that he’s the taller of them, no matter that he’s far too old to take comfort in the simple embrace of another person. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t _mean_ to forget you—or be so rude, or—or _any_ of it, I’m sorry, I’m s-s-sorry!”

 

“I know, I know, I’m not mad at you—geez, don’t cry on me, this shirt’s expensive and I’m a broke knight, you know?” Izumi squeezes Makoto tight all the same, his hands shaking but soothing as they stroke down his back. It’s such a _relief_ to be able to touch him without feeling like he simultaneously wants to die and like he wants to crawl _inside_ Makoto in the most disgusting of ways, as if somehow that would help him. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers into Makoto’s hair. “Seriously—don’t cry, Yuukun, you’ll make me cry and that’s gross.”

 

Makoto shudders, in a way that feels far deeper than the physical reaction, and manages to wipe his eyes on the back of his arm instead. “Sorry. Sorry. I—ugh, I’d rather drown than ever have a bond again, I can’t believe I used to _want_ one when I was a kid.”

 

“Please don’t ever say the word ‘bond’ around me ever again,” Izumi mutters, yanking Makoto close again and more or less refusing to let him go. “Bear with it, I need to hold you for a little while.”

 

“Heh, that’s fine.” Makoto’s voice is wet, and he warns, “I might mess up your shirt, though. I’ve missed this. And didn’t even—how did I not know I missed you?”

 

“Fuck it, I’ll get another shirt,” Izumi sniffs, his voice wavering when reminded again that Makoto had _forgotten_ him. It’s not like he’s ever had a lot of friends, so losing one of the few that he’s got had been the worst thing out of all of it. “Sit over here with me, I need a minute,” he mutters, dragging Makoto over to the nearest sitting room, unbuckling his sword to lean it against the chair he pulls Makoto down into.

 

“Mm…little Dawncloak, while you recharge…you’ve felt it, too, haven’t you?” Kanata idly pipes up, drifting over to one of the windows to pull the curtains apart for a better view of the ocean. “There’s so much unrest…ahh, I hope Rei arrives soon…”

 

“I—I thought it was to do with you, when you showed up,” Makoto admits, feeling far more at peace when he’s with Izumi, like this after so long. “It didn’t get any stronger when you came in, though, so…it’s definitely something…”

 

Too late, he glances around, then closes his mouth. “Sorry, Excellency. I know I’m only a Dawncloak, but I know enough to know what I can’t say around folk who didn’t take oaths to the Academy. Um, please don’t report me.”

 

“Rei says the Kingsguard is safe now.” Kanata shrugs carelessly, hopping up onto the windowsill, willowy legs slowly kicking. “Actually…you two…might be able to help me. The human trade…that’s threatening my people, too, and that’s what is stirring up all that…bad magic…if you have any news…”

 

“We’re actually heading South to deal with that very thing,” Izumi says, his voice muffled from where it’s stuffed into Makoto’s hair. “There’s plenty of news, none of it good.”

 

Arashi looks at the two of them for a moment, then grabs a chair, sitting primly with one leg crossed over the other. “What kind of news do they have about the slave trade in the ocean? We’re trying to infiltrate that kind of thing right now, you know, and there’s not that much to find. It’s really annoying…if you know anything, I bet people will want to hear it, no matter where it comes from. What kind of bad magic? Ahhh, if my Mika is getting involved in that kind of thing, I’ll never stop worrying…”

 

“The traders…have been creating pathways for their trade, more and more,” Kanata softly supplies. His cloak slowly starts slinking off of one shoulder, and he doesn’t bother to fix it. “From the Hinterlands, from the Isles…from the Shadowlands. Demons come from it…and they’re hungry…they can’t help it, but…if we can’t close those paths, it could get worse. Darker things, scarier things, coming through…my people are touched by it first, being so deep under the water…”

 

“Ritsu mentioned something like that, awhile ago,” Izumi says, propping his chin atop Makoto’s head as he slowly strokes a hand down his back. “Even L—His Majesty did. That makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be heading to the Hinterlands instead—don’t give me that look, Arashi, if it means we can fix this faster—“

 

“No…you’re both useless there,” Kanata says with a shake of his head. “I want to hear from Rei…but…South might be the start of it? I don’t know, I’ve been under the waves for so long…”

 

Arashi frowns, and thinks about something, eyes unfocused, flicking to somewhere outside the window. “Ah, may I ask, are you familiar with the situation enough to answer a couple of questions? I have a theory that just occurred to me, but I’m not sure…can you clear up some tactical issues? I have no intention of making war on your people, you have my word.”

 

“I’ll eat you if you try,” Kanata cheerfully says. “So we can talk about it…Rei has kept in touch, so I know enough, I think…”

 

“Great.” Arashi steeples his fingers, thinking as fast as he can, the part of his mind reserved for tactics and strategy racing into action. It’s the swiftest part of his mind by far, next to the part reserved for memorizing songs and stories. “This might be common knowledge to people familiar with the Arcane, but…powerful creatures, demons, whatever—they have ways of getting around that humans can’t see, right? If they can be summoned in certain places, it stands to reason that they have ways of traveling other than, like, over land roads. Can they travel from place to place in our world without going over land, and if so, are they actually, like, paths? Like, through the sky or the spirit world or something, that a certain amount of creatures can travel on at a certain time? Sorry if that’s kind of complicated, but it’s important.”

 

“Depending on the creature, the actual land might matter…or it might not. When I say that demons are coming in…the ones that can come in now…travel on human-made pathways. They have to pass through the barriers of the Shadowlands, but…those are just the weak ones, that can be limited.” Kanata’s nails slowly click against the windowsill he sits upon. “But the more the mines in the Hinterlands are drilled…and the more the unwilling are used in the Sandlands for their parts…that disturbs other creatures, down below. Those are the ones that can travel through summoning…and through the sky, or skim the sea…” He glances up, holding Arashi’s gaze. “Those are the ones like Rei, or Wataru, or like how Eichi was. Strong, and pass as humans so easily sometimes that you wouldn’t even know.”

 

Arashi nods slowly. It confirms some of what he’d suspected, and some of what he’d only imagined. “Okay. Now that that’s established. These pathways, if they get properly established—is that something that the Inglings can use to call their monsters?”

 

“Oh…like in the stories? Definitely…they might even work together. It’s bad.”

 

Arashi drags his hands down his face. “Right. That was the piece I was missing. Damn, it makes everything make sense, but in the worst of ways. I’ll have to talk to Rei about this. Izumi, I think…I think you’ll have to go to the Sandlands without me, at least for a few days.”

 

 _You’re kidding me_ is on the tip of Izumi’s tongue, but he shoves that down, even as he straightens up where he sits, curled up. “Or,” he says, “we can wait to see how quickly Rei actually responds to Kanata’s message, and I can be informed as well. I wanted to touch base with him, too, you know.”

 

Arashi shrugs. “Fair enough, I just…” He gnaws on his lip, thinking. “If he doesn’t respond fast, we’ll be more use down South, but if he does…damn. We don’t even have a fast way to talk to him, since Shu walled off their connection.”

 

Izumi hesitates at that. “I _might_ have a few things Ritsu gave me, way back when, that we can use if we really need to get in touch. I’m only mentioning them now because if Rei’s in the Shadowlands, or anywhere close to it, they’ll work all the way there,” he hastily adds before Arashi can scold him. “They’re technically to contact my spies, but—needs must?”

 

“Ooh…you’re that close to Ritsu…? That’s why…the scary horse.” Kanata nods slowly. “Of course, of course, snakes…”

 

“…Whatever that means, sure,” Izumi says, unwilling to be too annoyed with Kanata after him fixing something so _terrible_ , and, well—knowing how scary he can get after past run-ins, it’s worrisome to think about talking back. “Honestly, Arashi? You’re not going to be any good up in the Hinterlands if it’s the Shadowlands bleeding over and causing shit. You couldn’t even walk into the Shadowlands without something trying to eat you.”

 

Arashi huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “You don’t need to protect me from stuff like that. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself, you know, I’ve been doing it for a lot longer than I’ve known you.”

 

“It’s not just one place,” Makoto says softly. “It’s—those dark pockets are popping up in a few different places. Even if Lord Arashi is resistant to magic and scary-strong, those things could be anywhere.”

 

“Eh? Who’s scary strong? I’m cute strong!”

 

“Little Dawncloak is right,” Kanata says, nodding slowly. “Also…you might be resistant to magic and strong, but…you remember what Eichi did to you, don’t you?”

 

“Vividly.” A chill runs through Arashi at the mention of it, and then he pauses, another thought occurring to him. “Ah, not to put an imposition on you, but that thing you just did, to the two of them? Could you…could you do it, if half of the pair was dead?”

 

“Arashi,” Izumi lowly warns.

 

Kanata’s head tilts to the side, and the rest of his body lists a bit to follow. “Maybe. It depends. This mess…was easy, and tasty to clean up. It wasn’t very strong to begin with.”

 

“I didn’t even know I had it before it was gone,” Makoto confirms, though that feels almost like a mean thing to say, for some reason.

 

Arashi shoots Izumi a look, then shrugs one shoulder. “Worth a shot, isn’t it? You can’t pretend you don’t see…well, you know.”

 

“It’s still not your place to even bring it up,” Izumi defensively retorts, petting Makoto’s hair aggressively, as if it’s some kind of stress relief. “He’s your king, don’t speak poorly of him.”

 

Kanata pauses, listing to the other side. “This is about Eichi’s…? Ah…I’d have to see it…but, maybe…”

 

Arashi holds up his hands. “I guess I don’t get to comment about it. Just…I don’t know, if it really tasted that great, I’m sure you’ll keep an eye out. Anyway, can you tell me for sure whether the legends about the Inglings are true? If there’s something I can do to prepare my people, I want to try.”

 

“I’ve just heard the stories,” Kanata cheerfully says, shrugging slowly. “Ask Rei…or Wataru…they’d know, they’re oooooold, hehe…”

 

“And you aren’t?” Izumi deadpans.

 

“I’m…” Kanata pauses, unnecessarily. “Twenty-five.”

 

“What? Holy shit, I feel like scary wizards keep getting younger,” Izumi mutters, giving Makoto a little shake. “Oi. I’m glad you’re not scarier, that would be weird.”

 

“Don’t lump me in with them,” Makoto whispers, carefully not meeting Kanata’s eyes. Ally he may be, but he’s _terrifying_. “I’m human, they’re…so powerful, they’re a lot more than human.”

 

Izumi glances up, watching Kanata for a moment. Rei, half-blood he might be, has never seemed quite as inhuman as _this_ wizard. He’d known it before, when Kanata still resembled creature more than human, but seeing him like this is almost…uncanny valley. He shifts, grumbling, “Said as if I’m not the same. Don’t be rude.”

 

Kanata flips a latch on the window, casually destroying another magical seal upon it to do so, and opens the window to the sounds and breeze of the sea. “It even smells like magic,” he says with a long sigh. “Maybe…that means Rei…ah…and someone else? Who knows~…”

 

A bell starts to ring, and Makoto perks up, looking out the window. “That means the Commander’s back in the city,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t move from Izumi’s lap. “He must have ridden out to meet the guests. Ahhh, I was supposed to have my research done by tonight, I might get in trouble…”

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.” Izumi gives him another firm squeeze, not releasing him. “If Morisawa’s back around, I should meet with him.”

 

“We can go,” Kanata happily says, hopping down from the windowsill. “He’s mine.”

 

Makoto’s head tilts. “He’s…yours? Your friend?”

 

Arashi hides a smirk behind his hand, then clears his throat. “I’ve got some plans to run by Rei, mind if I come along?”

 

“He’s mine,” Kanata repeats without hesitation, half-heartedly straightening his cloak, which upon second glance, seems to glitter like scales when the sun reflects off of it.

 

Izumi doesn’t comment, and forces himself to slowly rise, straightening Makoto’s clothes out of habit. “Get some sleep, to hell with your deadlines,” he mutters. “You look terrible. It can wait another day. All right?” _It’s so good to be able to actually talk to you again, I didn’t know I’d missed this so much._

 

Makoto gives him a rare, open smile. “I’ll do my best,” he promises. “With you looking after me, of course it’s going to be good, hmm?” It’s easy to bask in that praise, that concern, now that it makes _sense_ again.

 

“That’s the idea.” Izumi steps back with a deep breath and buckles his sword back into place. “Right. Back to work, then. Thanks for letting me borrow that net, Yuukun. It, uh. Was useful, for better or for worse.”

 

“I’m horrified at that,” Makoto says with a grin. “Do me a favor and don’t tell me what you used it for.”

 

Arashi snorts. “You’ll definitely hear about it someday, whether you want to or not. C’mon, Izumi, leave the boy, you can always bother him later. Where would the Commander and his guests be, I wonder…?”

 

“Did they finish rebuilding that old estate of Rei’s yet?” Izumi asks, scowling over Arashi’s nagging, but forcibly turning away all the same. “Didn’t he say it was owned by some other family that used to rule over this place? Hell if I remember, I was a mess the last time we were _all_ here.”

 

“Mm? Oh…that place…by the sea? Yes, it’s there.” Kanata meanders his way to the door, cape and sleeves fluttering. “Rei will probably stay there…it’s very…very…very…warded.”

 

“Sure. Then let’s—“

 

And Kanata is gone, just like that, disappearing around the side of the outpost wall to dive straight into the sea. Izumi stares, then shrugs, shaking it off. “Fucking wizards,” he mutters as he walks outside, pleased to see his horse hasn’t eaten Neigh yet. “They’re all so weird.”

 

“…I was going to tell you not to lump my beloved in with them, but honestly, yeah,” Arashi admits with a sigh. “Why are they all like that? And, you know what, I’m going to count you in that too, you’re magic enough to count. Mark my words, you’re going to be like Ritsu, half creature half magic, someday.”

 

“No way, I’m way more human than creature,” Izumi protests, untying his mare’s reins. “Besides, Ritsu’s a wizard and I’m not, he’s automatically worse off.”

 

He hauls himself up into the saddle, and breathes out a long, ragged breath. It’s strange, to _finally_ be without a weight that’s been set upon him for years now, and he shuts his eyes, leaning his head back. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel this good again,” he groans. “Gods. Sorry for snapping at you in there, but…His Majesty’s kind of a special case. I don’t want Kanata chomping on him unless it’s actually safe.”

 

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t just watch him do it to my best friend with good results,” Arashi grumbles, ruffling Izumi’s hair aggressively. “You look like a drowning man who’s just come up for air, both of you. Why wouldn’t I want that for the king I love?”

 

“Because it…seems so much more than superficial with him.”

 

Izumi shivers just thinking about it, and swats Arashi’s hand away distractedly. “I didn’t even know Kanata could do things like that, but the hell do I know? Wizards are so much sometimes. Whatever, let’s go greet the worst one of them all.”

 

Arashi bites down the argument that _yours wasn’t superficial either, I saw how messed up you were!_ Because that isn’t exactly constructive. He strides along at Izumi’s side, keeping up easily and forcing him to go a bit faster. “I don’t remember this place at all, I was almost dead at the time,” he says cheerfully. “So you’ll have to show me the way. Heh, isn’t it weird that guy’s seen my guts? I hope they weren’t too ugly…”

 

“I’ve seen your guts, too, and I helped put them back in,” Izumi deadpans, yanking his horse’s head around so that she doesn’t try to take another chunk out of Neigh. “I know my way around here pretty decently. I’ve had to meet up with Morisawa a lot in the past few months; High Harbor’s guard works closely with the Kingsguard in keeping riff-raff out of the capital.”

 

“What, really?” Arashi blinks, looking around. “I missed that somehow. Ah, but I’ve been so busy in the Sharps…luckyyyy, getting to stare at the Commander all the time. Heh, remember that bet we made, the day you met him?”

 

“You don’t pay attention to anything unless it involves Mika, or war,” Izumi says with a roll of his eyes. “And nope, I don’t recall, I don’t make bets with snakes like you.”

 

“Really? Seriously? You’re calling _me_ a snake? And we’re not going to talk about the irony of that?”

 

“Nope, I know what I’m talking about. I’m pretty firm on this. At least you sound sexy when you talk about war instead of just looking that way.”

 

“Heh, you liked that?” Arashi nudges Izumi with his shoulder. “Don’t remind me, you just like scholarly types. Should I get a pair of spectacles? I used to wear them when I was younger, you know.”

 

Izumi looks back at him smugly. “I know. Mika told me you still wear them when you two are alone and you’re trying to pour over your ledgers. Why won’t you wear them around me, huh?”

 

Arashi scowls at him. “Because you’re weird about it! And you’re mean about me doing my ledgers, you always make me feel like a bumbling idiot!”

 

“Because math is easy and you’re dumb about it. Maybe I’d be sweeter if you were wearing glasses.”

 

“Because nothing is sexier than someone whose eyes don’t work? I don’t understand this fetish, honestly.”

 

“It’s a _look_ , idiot. I don’t know, don’t ask me, I don’t know why my dick does the things it does.”

 

Avoiding the cobblestone paths into town, Izumi leads the way through the backroads, around the barracks and straight to Rei’s manor. “Remember this place now?” he wryly says, pulling his mare up short at the gate. “It actually makes me anxious just looking at it. I keep expecting to need to heal someone, right the fuck now.”

 

“Mm, I know what you mean,” Arashi agrees, fingers twitching slightly. “Maybe it’s that dark magic he was talking about? I feel like I’m about to get surprised from behind, I hate this feeling. Hey, you seriously don’t remember the bet? Ha, you’re just saying that because you _lost_.”

 

“Lost what?” Izumi innocently deflects, nodding to the guardsman posted at the gate when he’s let inside as an all-too familiar face.

 

It seems they’re arriving right at the same time as Chiaki and his entourage, and Izumi dismounts his horse, handing her off to the stablehand that runs up. It’s strange that it isn’t Hajime, but whatever. “Morisawa,” he greets, and offers the smallest bows of his head to Rei. “Excellency.”

 

Rei brightens—well, for a given value of ‘brightening’ that the Demon King Rei can offer in broad daylight. Draped in his heavy cloak with the hood drawn up, that’s the _only_ thing that would denote him as the Emperor of the Academy and the King of Demons, considering that he looks ready for sleep underneath, his shirt already half-undone. “Ah, another familiar face, how lovely—and our Lord of the West, even. I heard Kanata was out and about as well? I see he’s already taken a nibble on you.” He sounds oddly relieved about that, but before Izumi can say a word, he gestures to his companion. “This is my friend, Kaoru, and…well, you’ll meet Souma later, he likes to run my errands and I like that about him.”

 

“Izumi! It’s good to see you, my friend!”

 

Arashi manages to escape a truly bone-crushing hug from Chiaki, then takes a deep bow, first to Rei out of deference, then Chiaki a far shallower one, then the visitor, truncating it to one that won’t seem ironic just in case the newcomer is of much lower status than he is. “An honor as always, Excellency,” he says, giving first address to the highest-ranked person in the room. And his tutors had said he was hopeless for ever learning propriety, ha!

 

Kaoru looks around, raising a single blond eyebrow at the newcomers. “Rei, you take a boy to the most interesting places. Yo, nice to meet you.” He sketches a little salute, hardly a bow, though his smile is easy and friendly.

 

Izumi grunts underneath the force of the hug, and settles for clapping Chiaki on the back instead of returning it. “Off, you overgrown dog,” he grumbles, sparing a sideways glance at the little peek he gets of what looks to be a particularly vicious hickey on the side of Chiaki’s neck. _Good for you._ “Kaoru of any house, or…?”

 

“Just Kaoru,” Rei cheerfully offers for him.

 

“Sure, that sounds real. Nice to meet you, just Kaoru.” He doesn’t bow. “Sir Izumi, Lord of the Sena house in the North, Captain of His Majesty’s Kingsguard.”

 

“Ah. _That’s_ what I smelled.”

 

From the water trough emerges Kanata—somehow, though Izumi can’t figure out if he’s been there the whole time or this was some kind of elaborate magical transportation—dripping wet, hair streaming into his face and his Nightcloak making it look as if he has enormous, dark fins trailing behind him as he rises. “Rei…when you bring things like that…it makes me hungrier.”

 

The entire demeanor of Just Kaoru, No House In Particular, shifts abruptly. He goes still, looking at the new arrival, and Arashi watches his hand make the slightest twitch—though not, he notes to himself, towards where the hilt of a sword would be. _To something that would be around his neck? Or a bracelet, maybe?_ It’s an odd angle, one that makes him intensely curious.

 

The next second, the tension dissipates, and that easy smile is back. “You’re pretty,” Kaoru says, with a rather charming wink. “Rei knows the loveliest people, wow.”

 

“Ah, sorry, my turn for introductions!” Chiaki says hastily, hurrying to the newcomer’s side. “This is Nightcloak Kanata, representative of the Depths, and my most honored guest. Kanata, you know Rei, and this is Lord Arashi—I think you’ve met, right—and Lord Izumi—I _know_ you’ve met—and someone named Kaoru, who I don’t know.”

 

“Be sweet, Kanata,” Rei gently chides, his hand sliding to the small of Kaoru’s back. “He’s mine.”

 

“Stingy,” Kanata softly says, his eyes dilated to the point that the green of his irises almost disappears entirely. “Let me take a bite. It’s only fair.”

 

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but time is of the essence, isn’t it?” Izumi interrupts, content with being the rude one if it means less carnage and more results. “Arashi and I need to discuss strategy with you, Excellency.”

 

“Not in the sunlight, thank you,” Rei says with a yawn, turning away to drift further into the courtyard and into the manor proper. “I’ve traveled for some time and it’s warm here, so I’m drowsy.”

 

Arashi frowns. “We’re talking about spirit attacks that could put an end to our entire society, you know? Do you want some coffee or something?” He tries to remember to keep a civil tone in his head, but _honestly_.

 

“And if we move too hastily, something of mine is at stake. I’m awake and listening, but you’ll do well to let me acclimate myself to being in warm weather again,” Rei grumpily says, collapsing down onto the nearest chaise the moment he’s indoors. “Is everyone west of the capital rude?”

 

“Yes,” Izumi deadpans, trailing after him and not giving an inch. “We’re discussing this, now, or we’re headed down South _now_ to pull out ‘something of yours’ and Mika from this mess. We’re actually going to do that either way, but the when and how of it depends on a few answers.”

 

A sharp rap sounds at the door, and Chiaki starts to move, only to be beaten there by one of his men, who hisses, “You’re the Commander, sir, it’s our job to open doors.”

 

A moment later, the helmeted orange head of Captain Subaru enters, and makes a beeline straight for Rei. “Hi, Emperor, I heard you were in town, I wanna talk to you!”

 

“Ah,” Rei says wearily, listing to the side to plop his chin in one hand. “You, too, I see. Go on, I’ll hear your grievances as well.”

 

“Wait in line, Akehoshi,” Izumi snaps, folding his arms across his chest. “Is Isara going to show up out of nowhere next?”

 

“Unlikely, unless he’s doing his job very poorly,” Rei says, his eyes landing upon Arashi first. “Go ahead, you first.”

 

Arashi looks around, then shrugs. If Rei wants to hear everything in a public forum, then so be it. “With all due respect, Excellency, I want to give serious consideration and budget to a mission into Ingling territory, in order to stave off the utter destruction of our entire country.”

 

“Okay,” Subaru butts in, stepping in front of Arashi, “but where’s Hajime? He was supposed to be back by now!”

 

“Sit down for five seconds, we’re going to get there,” Izumi hisses, hooking a hand into the back of Subaru’s belt to haul him back.

 

“I’m assuming you mean a serious _magical_ budget, or else you would be discussing this with your king, and not me,” Rei says, plainly ignoring Subaru for the moment. “I’m not unaware of your needs, but I am as of yet unsure of what kind of manpower you’ll need. My Shadowlands reports have been slow in returning to me.”

 

“I have no idea,” Arashi admits. “But from my research, I’d need at least two Nightcloaks, trained in both subterfuge and, um, explosions.”

 

Subaru tries to stand again, but Izumi’s hand on his belt prevents him. “Let go, when you hold me like that I can’t get up and talk!”

 

“That’s the idea, you dense fuck.”

 

“So you want my consort and Mika back underneath your command,” Rei says, talking over Subaru’s flailing. “Or perhaps Natsume. You’re asking for quite a bit, especially from them. You know that, don’t you?”

 

Arashi doesn’t give an inch, meeting Rei’s gaze with his own, calm but fierce. “You’re the wizard. You tell me what I’ll need to save the country. And if you think your consort and my—and his apprentice were mismanaged under my command before, I’ll be happy to discuss that issue with you at any length.”

 

“There’s a time and a place for that discussion, but it isn’t here,” Rei softly says, unblinking underneath Arashi’s stare. “Though for what it’s worth, I don’t fault your command, merely the situations themselves. For this, though, I’ll send Wataru and Natsume out with you instead, if they can return in a timely manner—and if they don’t, I’ll go myself. Shu and Mika are already being used to their limit in the South, and I’d rather not have them immediately back on the field when they return. Is that satisfactory?”

 

Arashi lets out a sigh, and the tense line of his jaw softens. “Better than what I was asking for, actually. Thank you, Excellency. Before they return I’ll have my scholars research as much as they possibly can—with the help of His Excellency Kanata, if he’s available?”

 

“I’m available…for nooow…” Kanata hums, suddenly popping up and draping over the back of Rei’s chaise, still dripping wet.

 

“Kanata is a good source of information,” Rei agrees, politely pushing Kanata’s dripping hair off of his own face when it manages to fall there. “But I’ll make sure to connect you to Ritsu as well. He’s been monitoring the situation in the Shadowlands, which is where both of your issues are beginning directly.”

 

“Great. Good. Okay, I’m done and happy, someone else can talk to His Excellency,” Arashi says hastily, bowing out before everyone can keep staring at him. He’s been traveling, after all, and there hasn’t been time to do his hair properly.

 

“I’ll go next!” Subaru declares, struggling once again against Izumi’s hold. Chiaki grabs the other side of his belt, then immediately lets go as soon as there’s another knock on the door, hurrying to open it.

 

“Commander, _please_ , you’re going to look like I don’t know how to do my job,” the young man on the door hisses, before opening it to reveal a well-dressed young man with long hair tied back, bearing a tray of refreshments.

 

“Milord Rei,” he says, pleased with himself as he hurries to Rei’s side. “I brought refreshments, as a proper Bhenda should.”

 

To Rei’s left, Kaoru lets out a very quiet snort.

 

“Good boy, bring them over here,” Rei gratefully sighs, listing to the side and barely propping himself up against the arm of his chaise. “Introduce yourself to this room of fine lords and soldiers, would you?”

 

Izumi gets bored of holding Subaru back now that Arashi has said his bit, and releases his belt too-abruptly to watch the other man tumble forward onto the floor. “Stay there next time,” Izumi mutters, folding his arms again, unimpressed. His eyes follow Souma, his stare skeptical. “Someone’s been collecting.”

 

“No one asked you, Captain,” Rei sweetly says, the deliberate use of one of Izumi’s lesser titles not going unnoticed. “Bhenda have a lovely purpose, and are quite nice to feed upon…no, Kanata, not right now.”

 

Souma turns at Rei’s instruction, bowing low to the group, though in a slightly different style, one leg curled behind the other. “It is an honor to be presented to so many brave people of high status. I am Souma, formerly of the Kanzaki house, now bhenda bride and property of the Sakuma estate. However I can serve, please do not hesitate to ask, especially if it is for the benefit of my lord husband.”

 

Arashi’s mouth falls open. Chiaki’s face turns puzzled, and he looks from Rei to Souma, then to Kaoru, hardly attempting to suppress his laughter.

 

“This isn’t a Northern thing, before you ask,” Izumi says underneath his breath to Arashi. “The Kanzaki house—that’s the Hinterlands, and the Hinterlands are the part of the North we don’t talk about.”

 

Kanata waits about a moment longer before pouncing, knocking Souma solidly onto his back as he prowls over him, still dripping and with his eyes still dark. “You’re…the real thing, aren’t you?” he breathes, grasping Souma’s face in one moist, long-fingered hand. “I can smell the blood of the isles in you…Reiiii…is he a gift?”

 

“Maybe wait until we’re done here, and we’ll see about that,” Rei answers, entirely nonplused by the sight of Kanata nearly eating his so-called bride. He plucks up a goblet of wine, content to hold it for now, but drinking it will come soon enough. “Stop laughing, Kaoru, or I’ll let him at you again. Subaru, you were saying?”

 

“I’m _saying_ ,” Subaru says loudly, completely ignoring the tableau unfurling in front of him on the floor, stepping around it now that he’s finally free to stand in front of Rei, “that Hajime was supposed to check in a _lot more_ , and I want a cover story to go down and get him out!”

 

Souma shivers hard, his body responding to long-dormant resonant chords. “You’re—one of them,” he whispers, eyes wide. “Aren’t you? Our saviors…”

 

“I see why you don’t talk about them,” Arashi whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

 

“They’re not real Northerners,” Izumi lowly adds with a roll of his eyes. “The Kanzaki clan especially—they’re originally from the Isles, like Natsume. Pretty, but _nuts_ , you know? And weird magical things, or at least, that’s what legends say…”

 

“What’s your cover story to go pick up Shu and Mika, you two?” Rei interrupts them, fingers drumming slowly against his cheek. “Or are two members of the Kingsguard slavers now, too? Whatever it is, figure it out, and take this one with you to retrieve Hajime without disturbing my plans. Kanata, I already said you can’t eat him right now.”

 

Kanata pouts, seconds from chomping down right into Souma’s throat. “But he looks…so good…” he sighs, slowly peeling himself away in a wobbly, wet mass of limbs and cloth. “Rei…you’ve brought too many strange companions this time…”

 

Arashi looks at Izumi, then frowns. “Our plan was a bit more simple, actually? It has to be, I was stationed in the Sandlands before, it’s not possible that no one will remember. So, we were going to go down as ourselves, investigating things on behalf of the king, but being really pretty and dumb and overlooking anything real in exchange for bribes. The simpler the better, right?” He looks critically at Subaru, then adds, “I’m sure he’d help the story of us being idiots.”

 

“He couldn’t hurt it,” Izumi says with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, word has it—and I’m sure you already know—that a few exiled nobles are directly involved with the scheme down South. My showing up in particular will do one of two things—make them hustle and get sloppy, or make them clamp down and stop operations. Either way, I figure that’s a good way to discover a few tidbits of information while also dragging Mika and Shu out of the thick of it. They’ve been down there long enough.” He pauses, and grumpily asks, “Is Isara down there? Is _that_ why he’s been out of my hair?”

 

“He’s down there—and on a side note, so is Keito, and I would appreciate it if you would stay out of that part, specifically,” Rei says with a little smile. “Coincidentally, I’m headed South as well. I won’t be there to interfere in your research—and I trust you’ll take good care of my consort and little bird—but if you need me, I suppose I’ll be but a hairsbreadth away.”

 

 _Literally why when we can do all of it?_ Izumi nearly snaps out, but he’s learned that arguing with Rei is like arguing with a brick wall. “Fine, whatever,” he says, resisting the urge to throw up his hands. “I love not knowing all of the information, but I’m sure I can operate on this just fine.”

 

Now that he has his orders, Arashi feels his legs start to twitch, and he bows again, more hastily. “We’ll take our leave, then. There are some…sensitive things that we need to get down to the Sandlands anyway. C’mon, Captain,” he adds, tugging Subaru’s belt. Chiaki, predictably, gets up to open the door for him.

 

On the floor, Souma swallows hard, all of his attention on the human-shaped creature (for no human ever emitted a frequency that rattles his bones like so, just like in all of the legends) crouched above him, tensed and waiting for orders. “Milord Rei,” he says quietly, “I don’t want to interrupt, but…”

 

“I told him not to eat you yet,” Rei mildly says, bidding Izumi and associates a farewell with an absent wave. “Kanata, let the poor thing up.”

 

Kanata’s eyes narrow, irritation flashing behind them. “You bring this…and a Hakaze as well,” he softly says, slowly climbing to his feet the rest of the way. “You and Wataru both…will never stop toying with the wrong kinds of things, will you…?”

 

“That’s a cruel thing to say.” Rei shifts, pushing himself up into more of a sitting position, in spite of his yawning. “Wataru has lovely taste these days, or so I’ve heard. Souma, come over here, he’s not going to eat you.”

 

“Ah…it seems poor taste to treat your honored guests this way,” Souma says anxiously, climbing to his feet and hurrying to Rei’s side, then bowing again to Kanata. “And my people owe his a great debt of gratitude, of course—“

 

“They’re not what you think they are,” Kaoru drawls, leaning back against the wall. His hand makes the same twitching motion, towards a relic that he no longer wears. “Don’t let them fool you, kid. They’re less like the Shadowbred and more like Inglings.”

 

Souma’s hand moves to the hilt of his sword—surrendered upon entering the castle, of course, so it just clenches in impotent fury. “Apologize to the Great One! You heathen! You _dare_ to call yourself of the Hinterlands—“

 

“Ehh, when did I ever claim that?” Kaoru laughs, easily dodging Souma’s first strike.

 

“If you aren’t more polite to my friends, Kaoru, I won’t ask him to stand down,” Rei calls over, slowly sipping his wine.

 

Kanata drifts his way over, grabs Souma by the ponytail, and tosses him back next to Rei in one, easy throw. “No,” is all he offers to him before turning to Kaoru, his head tilting. “The last I heard…of the Hakaze…you weren’t supposed to favor Shadowbred, either,” he breathes, stepping uncomfortably close. “But…things have changed, haven’t they…?”

 

There’s a tense silence, during which Kaoru meets Kanata’s eyes without fear, something glittering under the surface, every muscle poised to strike. Then, he breathes out, with a shrug of one shoulder. “Things haven’t really changed. I’m just not a very good Hakaze, ask my family. But if you guys are breaking your treaties, I miiiiight have to be a little less of a prodigal son and let them know about it.”

 

“Kanata is an exception to every rule and every treaty,” Rei offers up, his entire posture lazy, but his eyes sharp as he watches the two of them. “Wavebred he might be, he’s still a wizard. Rare for their kind, of course, but that’s the human in him, you see. Technically, he’s outside of your jurisdiction, Kaoru…and entirely within mine.”

 

Kanata smiles, slow and languid, and his hair drips against Kaoru’s chest as he leans forward a bit more. “Technically,” he smugly echoes Rei’s words, “you can’t do aaanyythiiing about me…and if you work for Rei…that means…you teeechnicallyyy…work for meee…”

 

“I don’t work for him,” Kaoru protests, looking up at Rei, aghast. “You can’t have a Deepling working with you—I don’t care what we’re supposed to call them now, that’s just wrong.”

 

“Wavebred, Kaoru.” Rei sighs, taking a longer sip of wine. “If you keep at this, I’m not going to stop him when he tries to eat you. And you actually _are_ working for me, aren’t you? Or was that last blood pact not to your liking…”

 

“I’m gonna take a bite.”

 

“No, Kanata.”

 

Kanata’s teeth flash, coming dangerously close to chomping down onto Kaoru’s neck. “You’re…not a good boy, are you,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded. “Maybe that’s more fun~…”

 

Kaoru’s fingers finally move, sweeping into a complicated gesture, and there’s a flash, a sizzle of power that tastes like salt and blazes like the sun—a warning shot in return, though it leaves Kaoru breathing hard, unaccustomed to feeling that ancient power move through him after all these years. “I’d hate to be boring,” he breathes, eyes boring into Kanata. “I’ll stop, but because Rei wants me to, not because I’m scared of you, Deepling. Some of us still remember the old wars.”

 

Kanata’s eyes glitter, his pupils slitting as he holds Kaoru’s gaze, unmoving even when that sizzle of power sparks between them. “It’s good…not to be scared,” he breathes. “That makes it much more fu~n…”

 

“Enough, I’m already tired of this,” Rei bemoans, flopping back down and covering his face with an arm. The _sound_ of their magic makes his head ache, and the worst part is that neither of them even _realize_ it. “The sun is too bright and you’re both too noisy. I’d prefer my puppy to this…out, all of you. I want to rest until the sun goes down.”

 

“Very good, Milord Rei,” Souma agrees, still in a warrior’s stance. “I shall gladly guard you until the evening.”

 

“He said out, kid,” Kaoru says with a sigh. “That means you, too. C’mon, I’ll show you the best spots for sunbathing.”

 

“But I do not sunbathe, my skin is too pale—“

 

“Not for _us_ , there’s going to be _ladies_ out there.”

 

Kaoru slings an arm around the protesting Souma, though he shoots a hard look over his shoulder at Kanata on his way out.


	36. Chapter 36

_Welcome, Natsume of the Sakasaki Clan, Lord of the Isles._

 

Natsume stares at the words that glitter slowly into view, inscribed into the enormous wooden door in a rambling script. They blur as he sways for a brief second, the poor excuse of a world attempting to crash around him into the darkness of unconsciousness—but no, he’s _here_ , he’s not done yet.

 

One week ago, when he received Wataru’s missive, he hadn’t expected this. Rei’s preparations to leave the Hinterlands and go South were troubling to begin with, especially when Wataru’s silence reigned supreme, and it was far past the deadline when he said he would be returning. _And I still don’t know what you are, does that mean you won’t want me?_

 

Logically, upon receiving an _incredibly_ distressed missive of Wataru’s image, stricken and pale and pleading for him to come help, Natsume had leapt into action. Packing his bag in the middle of the night action, running into Rei in his attempts to escape Kaoru’s manor action—but Rei hadn’t attempted to stop him. Instead—“The Shadowlands isn’t kind,” he had simply said, folding his arms across his chest. “I can’t help you, if you’re apart from me.”

 

“I’m a Nightcloak. I don’t need help.”

 

Famous last words, but at least now, Natsume is _sure_ of it.

 

What would Tsumugi think of him now, tattered and bitten up and looking anything _but_ like a noble lady? He doesn’t even look like a boy of common birth at this point, with his hair yanked up into a bun, strands of it sticking to the mud and blood caked in streaks to his face, with his skirts in tatters and every dagger strapped to his thighs obviously revealed from how he’s pinned up the layers to make moving far easier, even if it’s shredded his socks and doesn’t exactly offer up a modest appearance. He doesn’t care, because he’s here, after crawling his way across bridges riddled with beasts that he couldn’t see, warding off demons that whisper from all sides, camping in woods that are full of nothing friendly (or perhaps edible), and making enormous traps to catch what chases him for at _least_ long enough to escape and find a different path.

 

Now, in front of this huge, _stupid_ door that obviously knows him, he’s so tired he can barely stand, but he’s here, and he can feel Wataru beyond it.

 

He thinks about knocking. That’s stupid. Instead, every last bit of magic left in him he simply throws directly into that stupid door, and it caves inward, giving him enough leverage to just shove it open with a hiss of breath, a dagger between his teeth. He’ll murder whoever’s keeping Wataru with his bare hands if he has to, to hell with it!

 

The door crashes open on its hinges, revealing a rather well-furnished cottage beyond, quite at odds with the gloomy appearance of the outside. The decorations could best be called _eclectic_ , with thick plush rugs, odd stuffed animals that look nothing like earthly creatures, and a pattern on the walls that seems constantly shifting, pulsing with magic that both whispers _contain_ and _repel_ at the same time. It’s a tiny wisp of power, hinting that either there is vastly more power contained in this spell than is visible, or that it was cast by someone incredibly weak.

 

And at the table, flushed with warm tea and good company, sitting across from Demon Prince Ritsu, is Wataru, laughing merrily at one of his own jokes. “Oh,” he says, only looking a little surprised to see Natsume. “Hello, little one. You managed to join us after all, how amazing!”

 

Natsume stops dead, staring at the sight of Wataru, unscathed and obviously enjoying himself. His eyes narrow, and he immediately yanks the dagger from his teeth, slicing it across his palm to drawl blood for a powerful dispelling charm, flung directly at Wataru and washing over him in a spray of red foam.

 

Nothing reacts, nothing changes, no illusion is removed to reveal a demon that isn’t Wataru in the flesh, and Natsume sags in visible relief, trembling where he stands. “You’re… _alive_ ,” he groans, scrubbing his eyes with his bleeding hand uncaringly. “I thought…your missive…”

 

Wataru beams at him, spinning around in his chair—an armchair, with four legs, that certainly doesn’t look as if it has the capacity to spin in any way. “You really did care, I’m so touched! Come, sit, have some tea, you must be exhausted. I’m not sure if you know this, little one, but you look rather a mess.”

 

“Hi,” Ritsu adds, looking supremely unconcerned. “There’s sweets.”

 

Ignoring Ritsu entirely, Natsume stares at Wataru a moment longer before subsequently stalking over and grabbing him by the collar to shake him with all the power left in his body. “What the _hell,”_ he snaps. “You made me come all the way here—and you’re—you’re _fine!_ You said you were _dying!”_

 

“And you believed me!” Wataru’s smile shines brightly, and he stands, grabbing Natsume by the waist, tugging him into his lap. “Aren’t I a _fantastic_ actor? Ah, I’m so glad you made it, those traps can be so nasty, Ritsu…”

 

“They’re supposed to keep humans out,” Ritsu agrees, sipping his tea. “You must be something else.”

 

Natsume trembles visibly, overstimulated and overwhelmed and very, _very_ angry, which he swiftly channels by grabbing handfuls of Wataru’s hair and yanking him forward into a hard, rough kiss.

 

“Uwaa,” Ritsu murmurs in a deadpan, gaze sharp as he watches from under lidded eyes.

 

Wataru’s mouth is hot and eager, the arm around Natsume’s waist as strong as ever, tugging him close. The hand that comes up to gently touch Natsume’s cheek, however, lacks his usual power, the fingertips trembling as they rest on his skin, just for a moment. His eyes sparkle when he draws back, licking his lips. “Ah, oh, my, I should fake my own demise more often, ahaha!”

 

Natsume slaps him right across the cheek, leaving a solid red handprint that’s red only partially from the force of it (the other half of it is the blood). “You’re the _worst_ , I hate you,” he snarls, even as he plasters himself into Wataru’s chest, burrowing closer even then. “I’m gross and hungry and _mad._ Handfeed me.”

 

“You’re so delightfully cruel to me,” Wataru says, with the air of someone gloating rather than complaining. He grabs a sweet, reaching awkwardly across Natsume, and only barely manages, through utter focus and concentration, not to drop the cake on the way to Natsume’s mouth. It’s a close thing, though none of the strain is reflected in his cheerful expression. “Say ‘aah,’ little one!”

 

Natsume takes a bite, growling a little underneath his breath as he chews and swallows. “You deserve it,” he mutters, glowering up at Wataru through his lashes. “Whatever’s wrong with you, you totally deserve it. But tell me what it is and I’ll fix it before I pass out, even if I’m _mad at you._ ”

 

If anything, Wataru’s smile grows far larger, more genuine, and he squeezes Natsume closer. “I told you he’d know immediately, didn’t I, Ritsu? He’s so clever, so exceptional!”

 

“He’s dying,” Ritsu says with a yawn. “Stepped into a real bad curse.”

 

“And I did it _beautifully_!”

 

“You did it stupid.” Ritsu pops a candy into his mouth, sucking noisily. “You got me in trouble. Control him, eh, Natsume? Don’t let him go launching himself into the middle of executions and stuff, I’m s’posed to stop folks who do that.”

 

“What have you been _doing_ down in _here?_ ” Natsume exasperatedly asks, twisting and wriggling in Wataru’s lap to straddle his thighs and glare at him properly. “What kind of curse? What kind of execution? Mommy used to dispell stuff like that and she was just Enhanced so I’m probably even _better_ at it—tell me, you’re not allowed to die.”

 

Wataru shrugs, as if it’s a vastly uninteresting topic to him. When he waves a hand, the fingers are rather pale and a bit lifeless, now that he’s not trying to pretend. “Unfortunately, I’m still something of a fool when it comes to the ways of my homeland. It’s possible that I saw something that soured my stomach, and I felt compelled on the spur of the moment to—“

 

“You’re still too soft,” Ritsu interrupts, “and you’re used to humans. He tried to save a kid from getting executed for theft,” he informs Natsume, ignoring the affronted glare Wataru shoots him. “Don’t look at me like that, if you’re gonna try to make a play for the Shadowlands, you have to get used to that stuff again.”

 

Natsume scowls, grabbing Wataru’s face in his hands, squeezing hard. “First of all, you’re not allowed to stay here,” he flatly says. “Humans can’t live here, so you can’t live here, because I’m human and I don’t want to stay here. Second of all, you’re so stupid for someone so smart. Third of all, _you’re not allowed to die_ , or I’ll be furious with you and never talk to you again. Got it?”

 

“Rules! How delightful, the way you try to contain me,” Wataru declares, struggling against Natsume’s hold to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, I took steps to preserve my life. Why, I even sent for the most talented wizard I know, who hastened to my side!” He lowers his voice just slightly. “And I sequestered myself in this cottage, which is keeping the worst of it at bay. I fear I can’t leave just now, though, or it will spread to the rest of my soul. It’s contained, for the moment, but my wards are crumbling bit by bit. This is a _nasty_ execution curse, that child could have _died_.”

 

“That was the point, you clown.”

 

Natsume twists in Wataru’s lap, glaring over at Ritsu. “And you didn’t do _anything?”_ he lowly says. “Aren’t you Lord Rei’s brother? You should’ve been able to do _something._ ”

 

Ritsu stares at Natsume, entirely nonplussed. “He staggered into my cottage half-dead with his soul unraveling,” he says in a deadpan. “I got him to this place, but hell if I know how to cure any—um, anything like this,” he amends, after seeing a tiny shake of Wataru’s head.

 

Natsume sees the movement out of the corner of his eye, and his eyes narrow, his gaze flipping back to Wataru, sharp and critical. “You’re not telling me the whole _story_ ,” he says, an edge of warning already in his voice. “Are you, _Wataru?_ ” Not ‘Master.’ Wataru doesn’t get to be called that right now.

 

Wataru looks from Ritsu (totally unhelpful) to Natsume, and his smile actually wavers. Finally, he sighs, and drops at least one of his masks. “I would have been able to take care of the curse on my own with no problem,” he admits. “But I was weakened. I didn’t want you to worry.”

 

“He got the plague.”

 

“ _Please_ stop tattling on me,” Wataru says wearily. “I’m telling him, I promise.” He takes in a breath, then looks into Natsume’s eyes. “Telling the direct truth…is rather anathema to my nature. Up here…it has a stronger grasp on me. Please be as patient as you can, I’m not hiding anything from you that I won’t tell you eventually.”

 

Natsume grits his teeth, curbing his temper, if only for a moment. “…Then we’ll take care of the curse first, and the plague after, so the curse doesn’t keep making it _worse_ ,” he mutters, deflating slowly as he suddenly becomes too _worried_ to keep being angry. “You’re the stupidest ever.”

 

“Guilty,” Wataru says merrily, leaning back in his chair, attempting not to look as if he’s sagging back. The energy required to make it look as if he’s not dying is nearly extinguished, and he closes his eyes, letting out a long breath. “Do you want me to guide you? Don’t overstrain, I’ll need you to fetch the cure for the plague, neither Ritsu nor myself can go where it grows. They’ve been using human slaves to harvest it, that’s where they’re going. Ah, did that make sense? My mind is skipping to and fro…”

 

“I can do it. I can do all of it, but you’re going to spoil me so much afterwards when you aren’t going to _die._ ” Natsume slithers out of his lap, brushing off the tatters of his clothes as if that’s going to make them more acceptable. “Draw me a map or something. For the curse—I’m going to just use blood magic. That’s been really heightened here, is that a thing? I hate the Shadowlands, nothing works the same.”

 

“Physics matter less, intent matters more,” Wataru confirms. “It’s because of the magic in the air, sinking into everything around here. The people, too. Even the humans who live here become something else after a while. That’s why they’ve got to keep importing them, you know. Soak in the shadows for long enough, and—“

 

“You don’t need to talk about that right now,” Ritsu growls. “That’s not a good thing to make me think about. Hey, kid, you want new clothes? I have some robes that would fit you…”

 

“Not right now. Busy.”

 

When Natsume says he’s going to do something, he almost always means _right then, right now._ This is no exception, especially when Wataru’s life is on the line—he refuses to wait to fix this.

 

He kicks aside the rug on the floor, pleased that he actually has a hard surface underneath to draw a proper magical circle with the last stub of chalk he has in his pocket, sketching it out with rapid skill born of being stuck in the Shadowlands minus a master for over a week. The cut on his hand has started to dry up and close already, but he rends it open anew with a knife, leaving a droplet of blood at each point of the pentagram. That alone makes it flash green, already vibrating with magic courtesy of the setting, and he steps out of the center before it can start sucking on him, like he’s learned these portals tend to do in the Shadowlands. “Can you stand?” he asks, reaching out a hand for Wataru. “I’ll drag you over here, if I have to—come into the center, I’m going to rip the curse off of you and send it somewhere else.”

 

Wataru takes in a deep breath, then nods, getting to his feet and following after Natsume. “I have some strength left. Ah, and if you need any extra energy, I can take some away from maintaining my internal organs for up to five hours without dying, isn’t that incredible?”

 

“You need any extra blood?” Ritsu asks lazily. “I probably have some food in the dungeon.”

 

“ _No_ , and that’s gross. And it has to be willingly given blood, anyway. Sit down, Master, you’re too awful to die.”

 

It’s far too easy to shove Wataru down into the center of his circle, and Natsume does _not_ like that. It sends a tremor of fear through him for the first time— _am I good enough for this? this isn’t practice, this is real, this is Wataru_ —and he bites at his lower lip as he steps back in, lingering at one of the points. The light that flares up through the lines of chalk shifts closer to blue now, and Natsume holds out his wrist next, drawing his dagger shallowly across it. “It’s the new moon, so it’ll separate more easily,” he softly says, watching his blood drip out again and to the floor, where it foams and sizzles. “In the names of my ancestors, my gods, and myself, I call upon thee—come forth, cleanse this man of all evil and alien, and restore them to balance and health.”

 

The light flares again, and the droplets of blood skitter inward to an odd circle around Wataru, twisting the light to a deep violet instead. The pull on his own strength nearly yanks him to his knees now, but Natsume locks his knees, refusing to let up. “Come forth, then send it away—back to its source, to the caster of this will! By our wills combined—“

 

The backlash is sharp and abrupt, far more than any book has ever described dispelling a curse would be. It sends a slicing pain through his temple, and Natsume cringes, his hand trembling where it remains outstretched, letting his blood continue to drip and feed the spell. _That means it’s working, I can’t stop now just because it hurts._ “By our wills combined, so mote it be!”

 

The flash of light and power nearly blinds him, and he rocks back onto his heels, trembling at the sudden change in pressure in the entire cottage as it slowly dies down. There’s so much less…weight, if he has to put a word to it, and Natsume, pale and sweating, remains unmoving, waiting until the light on the circle dies down to something resembling glowing embers. Sending a curse away means he feels it pass through _him_ , and the strength of it eating through his already exhausted body is…less than pleasant. “Was that…are you…it’s gone, isn’t it?”

 

For a long minute, there’s silence, as quiet as the grave. Then, a single ragged breath in the darkness. There’s a cough, and then a sigh, and light flares into existence above them, gentle and glowing, then settling into the lamps to blaze to life once again.

 

Wataru sits up, looking deathly pale, but a bit less shaky. The transparent, trembling quality of his limbs has vanished, leaving him looking wan, but otherwise alive. “You,” he says quietly, looking steadfastly at Natsume, the rest of the ritual deserving little to none of his attention, “are much stronger than Rei thinks.”

 

Natsume sways, and based on that statement alone, stubbornly refuses to collapse. “Tell me where the plague-stuff-place is,” he mutters, moving only to snuff out the lines of his circle by rubbing his booted toe against them a few times, effectively breaking them. He doesn’t want anything trying to creep back through, after all. “I’m…I’m going to go, before I’m too tired.”

 

Wataru stands, finding grace in the movements somehow, and grabs Natsume by the arm. His own hand is perhaps cooler than usual, but the grip is powerful. He pulls Natsume to him, holding him fast, and presses a deep kiss to his lips.

 

Life sparks, and magic creates itself, replicating between them at his urging, spilling between their bodies and suffusing both of them, until there’s more than enough _life_ to go around, energy spilling into Natsume, through him, around him, swirling wildly in a barely-contained whirlwind, whipping unseen at the tatters of his clothes. “There,” Wataru pronounces, with a self-satisfied smile. “Feel a bit better, my little dove?”

 

Natsume breathes out a long breath, trembling and flushed where he stands, clinging to the front of Wataru’s shirt in a white-knuckled grasp. “Y…yes,” he whispers, sagging backwards. “Much. Ah…you better spoil me so much after this, I’m really, really sick of this place already…”

 

One corner of Wataru’s mouth lifts in an ironic smile. “Ah, it seems as if my plans of owning a summer home in the Shadowlands are for naught, eh? Take me to the Isles instead, I remember it as far superior.”

 

“The Isles are so much better,” Natsume groans, finally giving into the urge to slump forward into Wataru’s chest, burying his face there with a little sniff. “Warm…and sunny…and only sometimes can you maybe die from hurricanes…but you’d like that, I think. Hurry up and tell me where I need to go before I stay right here.”

 

“Spend the night,” Wataru urges. He nestles his face in Natsume’s hair, breathing in deeply. “Now that I’m not fighting the curse, I can keep the illness at bay for weeks, if I must.”

 

“But…” Natsume trembles, wavering. Wataru is so solid and smells so good, and now that he’s not trying to immediately _die_ , refusing him is so, so difficult… “You’re not in pain?” he softly asks, glancing up with large, worried eyes. “If you are, I’ll go. Right now.”

 

Wataru beams. “If I were, I’d lie,” he says frankly, “just to keep you close to me. With that in mind, will you believe me when I say I’m fine? I’ve missed you so.”

 

Natsume’s lips purse, but there’s no arguing with a statement like that. His heart thuds uncomfortably in his chest, and he flops forward again, stretching up on his toes to throw his arms around Wataru’s neck and cling. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Take care of _me_ , then.”

 

With only that as an invitation, Wataru scoops Natsume off of his feet into a princess carry, holding him close to his broad chest. “Thank you for your hospitality, my friend,” he calls to Ritsu, half in some otherworldly tongue. Then he turns, headed for the small bedroom off the cottage’s main kitchen. “Mm, someone activated my warning, I see. Were you trifling behind my back, little one?”

 

“W-what?” Natsume’s face jerks up at that, horror written plainly across his face. “No! I mean, _I_ didn’t, one of Lord Rei’s friends tried to get handsy and then…” His face flushes, and he punches Wataru in the shoulder. “Why’d you put that there, anyway?”

 

Wataru doesn’t even flinch from the hit, tossing Natsume onto the bed and crawling on after him. “Because I was going to be gone,” he says practically, “and you may have felt obligated to follow me, and there are things that could easily try to feast upon what I’ve already…sampled.” He turns his head, placing a slow lick on the inside of Natsume’s wrist, over the cut already starting to heal. “If Rei’s friend is alive, he must not have tried very hard.”

 

Natsume’s breath catches up in his throat. The easy, casual way that Wataru says that sends a shudder down his spine, and he briefly wonders what’s wrong with him when the words don’t scare him, but instead, make his blood pump hotter and his face flush with pleasure. _He’d_ kill _someone for me._ “He…seemed to get the hint, pretty fast,” he whispers, his thighs trembling before they splay, and his chest heaves. Just Wataru’s tongue dragging over his skin makes pleasant goosebumps prickle up and down his arms, his fingers curling slowly into his equally bloodied palm. “You shouldn’t—I look like a mess…”

 

“You look,” Wataru says softly, hair spilling around them in a wild fall, arms making short work of the bloodied tatters of Natsume’s clothing, “like someone who walked through fire and death to be at my side.”

 

For a moment, he abandons his work, just grabbing Natsume in a fierce hug, crushing him to his chest. His breathing slows, pulsing slowly in time with Natsume’s own. Deep inside, the corrupted, rotting tendrils of plague lash against his defenses, leaving sickly score marks against his insides, but he tamps it ruthlessly down. It will win one day, if he doesn’t get the cure, but not yet. Not now, when Natsume is in his arms again, safe and whole and still wanting him and unbearably human. “Keep looking at me with those eyes, love. There’s nothing more precious to me than the soul I see through them.”

 

Natsume shudders, and gives in, throwing his arms around Wataru’s broad shoulders and clinging there so tightly that his nails rake into his back. “I missed you…so… _so_ much,” he whispers, stuffing his face into Wataru’s neck, ending up with a facefull of his hair, and savoring it. He inhales deeply, winding his legs around Wataru, too, all to make sure he can cling to him with all four limbs. “Sorry—sorry, I still don’t know what you are, but I don’t _care_ , you’re mine…”

 

“That’s what I am, then.”

 

Wataru’s long-fingered hands drag down Natsume’s sides, holding him close, touching and stroking and worshipping that body that he remembers perfectly despite them only having one time to remember. Touches turn to gentle kisses, and he nuzzles behind one of Natsume’s ears, whispering, “I’m many things, little love. And all of them are yours.”

 

Natsume exhales a soft, shaky breath, his head falling back with a huff as he fists his fingers into Wataru’s hair instead, unraveling the one, perfectly coiled and braided bun with a few, swift tugs. “Mine,” he repeats, more confident saying the word when Wataru agrees with him and speaks of him so fondly. “Nnn, if someone else had tried to take a bite, I would’ve _killed them_ , you know. No one else is allowed—and your hands feel so good…”

 

The bit of Wataru’s hair that Natsume unravels seems to curl around Natsume’s fingers for a moment, before Wataru sternly thinks, _stop it_ , and it goes back to being hair. His hands make quick work of the rags covering Natsume’s body, but he can’t pull back to enjoy it, not when being tangled in Natsume is so much more _necessary_. “You can’t wear these rags anymore,” he murmurs, tossing the rags over his shoulder. “So lewd…any passing demons could have seen, you know, and wanted to take what’s been given to me so freely…”

 

“Said as if they didn’t try—there were _tentacles_ sometimes,” Natsume hisses, tugging on Wataru’s hair unrepentantly, unconcerned with how it sometimes decides to just move on its own. “I had to pack my cloak up so it wouldn’t get messed up; it’s not allowed to, you gave it to me.”

 

“I could always make you another,” Wataru reminds him gently. “Ah, actually, Shu made it, I merely modified it. You should wear it, you know. There’s more to it than cloth, and everything inside will protect you.”

 

That doesn’t stop his hands from moving on their own, running over bare flesh now that the rags are gone, waking Natsume’s body to the pleasure they’d found together before. “But for now…open to me, let me adore you.”

 

Natsume trembles, knowing he’s still an overstimulated mess, feeling like he’s still too bloody and bruised and gross for _any_ of this, but Wataru’s hands feel _so_ good that he can’t say no. He sags down into the mattress, reaching back to unravel the cord binding his own hair. “I want to be spoiled,” he groans, his thighs splaying open in surrender, his back arching when Wataru’s hands drag down his sides. “Master… _Wataru…_ if you’re mine, then I’m _definitely_ yours, you know…”

 

“Mmm. Yes. I know.”

 

Wataru pulls off of him, pressing another kiss to his lips before leaning back on his knees, then stalking to the ewer by the windowsill. He takes a soft cloth, then dips it into the basin, wheeling the table over to rest by the bed. “Lie back for the moment, darling. Let me spoil what’s mine.” He dips one finger into the water, swirling it slowly, infusing it with properties of tingling, healing, cleansing, strength—a casual magic he would hardly be capable of back at the Academy, which comes as easy as breathing in the Shadowlands.

 

Natsume obeys with a little, shaky sigh of relief. It’s nice that he doesn’t have to say things for Wataru to just understand sometimes. “Magic…has a strange look to it, here,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes to have some reprieve from it. “I haven’t had a vision since I stepped in here, but magic itself, I feel like I can see it so _clearly_. It makes me dizzy.”

 

Wataru pauses, then stirs his finger again, adding just a hint more fortitude, something that naturally comes with a dulling of the senses. “Let me know if it drives you mad,” he says lightly, and starts to wash Natsume’s chest. The motion is tender, but not precisely erotic; gentle, but not teasing. For the moment, it’s simply care, the cloth swirling softly over his chest, abdomen, upper arms and shoulders, and neck. After each repetition, Wataru tips clear, cool water over the cloth, wringing it out into an empty bowl, slowly filling with murky refuse as grime and blood disappear from Natsume’s skin. Small cuts vanish; large ones close and start to heal, pink lines appearing where rent skin had been. “If the sights are too much, I can make an ointment that dulls them for you. Scoot up, let me get your legs.”

 

“No, I’d rather see it than be blind here, that seems _worse_ ,” Natsume groans, slowly wriggling his way up, feeling more boneless by the minute underneath Wataru’s care. _No one_ would believe him that Wataru is this gentle and careful, but to him, it seems like something obvious and commonplace. “It’s so good to be _clean_ …I’m sure you think I’m acting like a prissy noblewoman, but who wants to look like a wild thing for that long?” he grumbles, kicking his feet a little. “Especially when I show up and you’re dying, but you still look good while you’re doing it.”

 

Natsume’s self-concern is entirely too cute, and Wataru smiles to himself, carefully cleaning one foot, then pressing a kiss to the arch before releasing it back down to the bed. “Doubtless Ritsu can tell you some stories of recent days when I looked considerably less…groomed,” he says with a laugh. The washcloth moves down one calf, up one thigh, carefully dipping and swiping. “It’s no bad thing to want to be well, and whole, and yourself. After all, that prissy noblewoman is the one I fell in love with, no?”

 

Natsume slowly flushes with those words, twisting partially onto his side to stuff his face into a pillow. “You’re being _awfully_ sweet to me, Master,” he says, the words muffled. “You must’ve missed me a _lot_.”

 

Wataru laughs quietly, and swipes the cloth over the inside of Natsume’s thighs next, letting it trail up into often forbidden territory. “I suppose I did,” he murmurs. “There were…many things I would have been unable to bear, if I hadn’t had the idea of you waiting for me. I owe you my life, in many forms.”

 

Natsume’s breath hiccups, even when the touch is just a casual one. Apparently, just the thought of Wataru’s hands anywhere near his thighs, north or south of them, is still more than enough to make his entire body warm. He blames those old, very vivid visions for that still haunting his dreams. “You should’ve just…taken me with you,” he grouses, lifting his face enough to peer over at him. “Then maybe you wouldn’t’ve been _stupid_ , and we could’ve had a lot more fun.”

 

“If it were a question of _fun_ , I certainly would have,” Wataru assures him. Then, he flips him over to lay on his stomach, and continues washing him down, leaning over him now, letting Natsume feel the press of his body—no more, for the current moment, but certainly no less. “But if I had, then you wouldn’t be able to pick my flower tomorrow, and I’d die of the plague.”

 

“You’re not going to die, I’d kill you myself first,” Natsume growls, reaching up to grab a handful of Wataru’s hair to use, more or less, as a leash. Wataru pressing against him from behind, _that_ haunts his dreams, too, and he shivers, melting down into the mattress. His cock likes to remind him that _more touch would be great, thanks_ , but he savors this, enjoying this slow, drawn out dance more than he expected after so long. “It’s stupid of you to think I’d let you leave me, _ever_.”

 

“Well, don’t forget. I am a fool, after all.”

 

Wataru laughs, like the sound of tinkling bells chiming through the air. He puts up with the hold on his hair good-naturedly, as it lets him rub and stroke Natsume while cleaning him, fully appreciating the sight of all that creamy skin being cleansed, prepared, laid bare. Just because he can, he dips the barest corner of the cloth up between Natsume’s thighs, and _up_ , flicking lightly over his hole before being washed again, then stroking down his sides. “Every part of you, little one…I’m going to worship every single part of you, before you see the sun again.”

 

The little squeak that escapes Natsume is muffled into a pillow, and he glowers down into it, the heat on his face traveling further and further down. “You better,” he mumbles, his breath hitching as he squirms slightly, giving Wataru’s hair a tug. “I’ve been deprived. I think about how…how you just _know_ how to touch me all the time. And your hands, and how nice and big your chest is, and how your hair smells…”

 

“Use your words,” Wataru urges, swiping the cloth over Natsume’s back, long, tender strokes that remove the grime and grit far faster than ordinary cloth and water ever could. “Tell me—what does my hair smell like to you, what does my touch do to your body? What have you been dreaming of, while you’ve been missing me?”

 

Natsume groans, a low, rumbling sound as his back arches underneath the touch like a cat’s. “It smells like air,” he says, shivering as he pulls a handful of it to his nose on purpose. “Like…the kind of air that only birds can reach…” He bites his lip, his toes curling. “You know exactly how to touch me, like…like you’re reading my mind, and it feels like a chemical reaction every single _time…_ and I…I…always remember…the way your hands feel on my thighs…and…the name you called me…” His face burns. “‘Kitten.’”

 

Wataru’s kiss is more of a bite, taking a piece out of Natsume instead of giving of himself, sealing his lips to Natsume’s neck. “You’ve earned it, I suppose,” he murmurs, trailing those kisses over Natsume’s shoulders, his upper back, down one arm, as the cloth continues its uninterrupted work. “Have you ever been flying, Kitten? Up where the air is thin, it’s cold, but so beautiful your heart would burst—and the birds wheel in joy, because the air is so thin it makes them laugh. I’ll take you there someday, if you want.”

 

“Anywhere you are, I want to go,” Natsume says on a shudder, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the bed, splaying apart when Wataru’s mouth trails down his arm. Those kisses feel like they pull on his magic like a mouth would when sucking on his skin, leaving little blossomed spots of color behind, and he squirms, grateful that his cock is trapped against the bed right now for at least a little bit of friction. “You’re starting to be mean,” he only half-heartedly complains. “Master, you have to play with me.”

 

“Ahh, are you starting to breathe easier, now?”

 

The cloth washes away more than the physical dirt Natsume had picked up. Now clean, he’s also free of the clinging, cloying spells that had attempted to latch onto him, like vines leaving stinging burrs. He may not even have felt them, but the wear and tear on his spirit would certainly be noticeable. Now, most of those spell fragments lie discarded on the table, wriggling and slowly dying, invisible to normal vision as they starve without Natsume to keep them alive. They’d be best compared to leeches, but they’re easily trimmed away, if one knows what they are doing.

 

Once that’s done, Wataru’s hands drift to curl around Natsume’s body, cloth discarded, running his hands up his sides, then to his chest, delicately stroking and teasing. “I’ve dreamed about having you underneath me for weeks, Kitten. Let me savor it.”

 

“Good, it wasn’t just me,” Natsume huffs, twisting around in Wataru’s arms to flop onto his back again. He grabs up handfuls of Wataru’s hair as he arches up, fastening his mouth to the side of Wataru’s neck, intent on leaving a mark of his own. “You can savor me all you want, but more _aggressively_ ,” he murmurs, gently biting down.

 

Wataru laughs, and endures the kiss with good humor, though something flickers behind his eyes. “Turn back over, I want you like that first.”

 

Natsume starts to protest, but a shiver runs down his spine, silencing his commentary. “The way you said that is weird,” he huffs softly, but slowly complies, turning back over. “You’re supposed to be spoiling me.”

 

Wataru prepares something witty and delightful to say, but something in Natsume’s face— _“You’re hiding things from me,_ ” the boy says in his memory—makes him flinch. He sighs, and murmurs, “I’m hiding something from you. I don’t want you distracted when I have you the first time, Kitten. But if you want, I’ll show you.”

 

Natsume turns his head, scowling at him through the heavy, mussed pile of his hair as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Is it something that’s killing you?” he bluntly asks. “That I’m going to have to fix later?”

 

“No, no, just a little leftover something from the execution,” Wataru assures him. “But it is…unsightly.”

 

“If it’s not killing you, then it’s fine. Show me or I’ll get mad and let the Demon Prince out there eat me instead.”

 

Wataru’s eyes flash. “He knows better,” he says softly, and tilts his head back, letting his robes fall from around his shoulders. It isn’t difficult to see what he means. A scar, glittering with some sort of magical energy, runs from where neck meets shoulder on his left side, all the way across his body and down to his right hip. The line of it is angry and fresh, but sealed by magic and prompt care. “If it hadn’t been for the night I spent with you before coming up here,” Wataru says, eyes locked on Natsume’s, “this would have been a far less trivial concern. I’ll take another big bite now, if you don’t mind, and finish up this rather ugly mess.”

 

Natsume’s lips part, and he reflexively lifts a hand, almost reaching out to touch before he thinks the better of it. “You can have as much as you need,” he manages, staring up at Wataru. “You don’t even have to ask. I don’t know why you would.”

 

Wataru grabs Natsume’s hand, bringing it to the wound. It tingles to the touch, but otherwise just feels like raised flesh. Slowly, he brings that hand around his body, to feel an identical mark in the back, as if the bladed object had gone entirely through his body, splitting him in two, and smiles. “Whatever I am, I like to have permission before beginning a meal,” he says lightly, and pounces, pressing Natsume down to the bed, face buried in his neck, hands traveling down to yank his thighs apart.

 

A squeak leaves Natsume’s throat as he collapses back, one of his favorite visions _ever_ temporarily blurring his actual sight and confusing the two when Wataru’s hands close around his thighs to pry them open. He swallows audibly, his fingers clawing into Wataru’s back, right above the wound before he catches himself. “Sorry—I—idiot, you don’t need permission,” he groans, sagging back, his head rolling back to offer his neck up in an eager arc. “I tooold you, I’m yours, so eat me up…”

 

Out of the Shadowlands, Wataru keeps his true self so tightly bottled up, it may as well not exist. There, he’d been careful, fearful of letting himself go too far, of causing Natsume harm.

 

Here, though, when he’s fed enough on ambient energy to sustain his life…more attention can be paid to the finer things in life. Like how it feels to have Natsume pant those words in his ears, for example.

 

“You won’t hurt me,” he assures the lovely young man under him, his body pressing Natsume down to the bed, letting them rock together for a moment, slow and easy and dated, each grind of their bodies together driving him to make the next one a little longer, a little harder. “I think…I want to taste you at least once before claiming you.” With that and no other warning, he crawls down, sealing his mouth over Natsume’s hardening cock without hesitation, jaw open wide enough to easily swallow the entire length.

 

Natsume barely stifles the cry that escapes from his throat with his fist, biting down into it reflexively when Wataru’s mouth, so hot and slick so _suddenly_ , swallows him whole. His hips buck up, his other hand fisting tightly into Wataru’s hair, that aching tension that sweeps down his spine making his thighs tremble and splay even more. “So you’re…gonna taste me in more than one way, huh?” he manages to breathlessly laugh, his eyes fluttering as he feels himself drip over Wataru’s tongue. “Master, I can’t…” _There’s no way I can last if you do this, I can’t, I can’t._

 

Wataru’s eyes flutter open, enough to look up at Natsume as he lets that hand be his guide, urging him farther down, until the entire thing is buried in his throat. It would be a simple trick to use his magic to make this easy, swallowing him down with no issues. So, naturally, Wataru either neglects or refuses to use it. This way, he _feels_ every bit of the thick, aching stretch in his mouth, forcing his jaw wide, bringing tears to his eyes as he swallows Natsume down. His hands come up to brace on those pale thighs, stroking and touching them, before one hand dips lower. Here he does use a hint of his talent, just enough to slick one fingertip before letting it press, then push, sliding in to the second knuckle in the space of a breath. _Time to see just how much you’ve really been aching for me._

 

Natsume’s voice breaks on a lower, rumbling groan as he reflexively clenches down, trembling as he arches clear off the bed and yanks Wataru’s head down at the same time. “S-sorry—sorry, fuck,” he whimpers, throwing his other arm over his face, feeling the way his cock jumps and pulses against Wataru’s tongue, threatening to spill just from a single finger inside. Even that feels like too much when he’s wound so tightly, his calf muscles trembling, knees bent until his toes barely touch the bed where they curl. He hasn’t even had _time_ to think of himself over the past few weeks, between Wataru’s disappearance and his own inevitable running after him. Natsume’s chest heaves as his hips twitch upward, helpless to do anything but fuck into the heat of Wataru’s mouth when he’s already so close. “Wataru…t-that’s so…”

 

And then, because he _can’t_ help it, he spills with the next shivery, twitchy little shock of pleasure that runs through him, making him squirm and twist with a sob escaping his throat as he spills over Wataru’s tongue. Another apology tries to escape, but to hell with it—he just whines, tugging on Wataru’s hair uselessly.

 

Wataru stays in place for a long moment, his lack of gagging far more to do with long practice rather than with magic, before finally pulling up, just enough that he can lap gently at the head until it’s clean and softening. “Thanks for the meal,” he says cheerfully, despite a few tear tracks snaking down the flush on his cheeks. “Ahh, I really must spoil you like that more often…perhaps every day when you wake up, and at afternoon tea…”

 

As he talks, his finger starts stroking gently, curling and pushing into Natsume a little more each time, its motion so deliberate that when he does finally brush just slightly against that sweet bud of nerves, it can only be on purpose.

 

The noise that leaves Natsume this time is a weak gurgle of a moan, and he thrashes, twisting partially sideways in his overstimulation. “Do that agaaain, don’t you dare stop,” he pants out, his own face flushed a deep, ruddy pink as his thighs try to clamp down around Wataru’s arm, not letting him pull his hand away. “You…nh…i-if you keep doing that, I might…again…”

 

“Can you?” Wataru asks, delighted, doing as bidden and curling his finger again, more firmly this time. “Even when you just did? What a lewd little kitten in heat you are, hmm? I wonder how many times I can bring you to the brink…and whether I should let you fall over each time…”

 

Natsume’s back arches, a throaty groan pulled from him as he rocks down onto Wataru’s hand, trembling as he reaches down with grabbing fingers, trying to reach Wataru’s wrist and feel more, _somehow_. “Don’t be mean, you’re supposed to be spoiling me,” he whimpers, wriggling down. “Wataru…more, please, you…”

 

“Oh? And do you not feel good?” Wataru’s voice is gentle, though his smile is anything but. “You stopped calling me _Master_ , does that mean you want me to call you Natsume? Well, I can certainly bow to a request for _more_ , when it’s said so sweetly…” He adds another finger, watching Natsume’s face as he spreads them apart.

 

Natsume’s mouth falls open, voice gone for a moment as he arches, trembling, his cock dripping onto his stomach. It _truly_ feels like Wataru is playing with him, but in the best of ways, stroking him from the inside out and making his hands grab desperately for any kind of purchase. “Y…you…calling me that, is even better, somehow?” he pants out. “W-when you talk to me like…I’m really your lover…”

 

For once, Wataru fumbles for words. He blinks suddenly stinging eyes, and withdraws his hand suddenly, covering Natsume’s body in his own, lining up and—

 

“Sorry,” he whispers, and pushes in with one urgent motion, cock sliding in deep as he presses kiss after kiss to Natsume’s forehead. “Just bear with it, I’ll make you love it, just—you’re _mine_ , Natsume—“

 

It’s so much all at once that Natsume doesn’t even have a chance to breathe—and maybe that’s better, what with how his body tenses and trembles, his legs splaying, his back arching entirely off the bed as he clings to Wataru’s back, his nails raking down his spine. “I-it’s…f-fine, it’s just…” He whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut. Being so, _so_ full takes his breath away, and his chest heaves every time he clenches down, far from on his own accord. “R-really good, I’m gonna…”

 

“Whenever you want. As many times as you want.” Wataru gives him a brief smile, then closes his eyes, lost in sudden pleasure as Natsume squeezes him so tightly it shakes his grip on reality. “J-just…don’t expect me to stop.”

 

Natsume’s nails claw against Wataru’s spine, yanking on handfuls of his hair as he squirms down, panting out a hot, shaky breath against Wataru’s throat. “You gotta move, though,” he whispers, sweat dripping down from his hairline. “You’re not gonna hurt me, please, please…”

 

Wataru laughs a little to himself, and finally braces his knees on the bed, setting a sweet rocking motion as he pulls back a few bare centimeters, then rocks in again, satisfying the edge of that tension building in him for just a moment. Then he slows, adjusting his motion until he lets the head of his cock drag over something he knows intimately well, deep inside. “It’s not spoiling you well enough if you’re having to direct me,” he murmurs, taking Natsume’s lower lip between his teeth and sucking on it. “Let me…make it up to you…”

 

“A…ahhh…” It feels like that trembling just won’t _stop_ now. His legs are the worst, shaking as he tries to squeeze his thighs around Wataru’s waist, and failing when Wataru strikes that perfect spot inside of him that turns his spine to jelly and his limbs to useless, floppy things. Overstimulated tears prick into his eyes, and Natsume’s tongue flicks out, tasting Wataru on his lips, feeling the scrape of those teeth, and his mouth just parts hungrily, desperate for more kisses. “Wataruuu…that’s so…” Natsume swallows audibly when his cock throbs, giving an unexpected twitch that leaves him dripping over his stomach anew.

 

“That’s two.”

 

Wataru presses a kiss to Natsume’s mouth, tasting him deeply, starting to leech a bit of _life_ out of Natsume, clamping down with his will to force himself to sip, rather than gulp. It’s just so _difficult_ when Natsume is the sweetest nectar, more enticing than any food or drink that’s ever passed his lips. To his senses, Natsume even feels more tasty than when he’d been young, had taken men and women without a care, drinking them greedily down and caring little of what he’d left in his wake.

 

Natsume, though…somehow, even those tantalizing little sips, now that he knows true hunger, satisfy him even more deeply. “How many more,” he murmurs, racing towards his own pleasure, hands dragging up and down Natsume’s torso, “can I wring from your body, my love?”

 

Natsume’s head shakes frantically, and he melts down into the bed, just letting Wataru pull him and push him and fill him again and again with every thrust. No matter how he moves, how he twists and shifts, it’s just so _much_ , and it forces his legs to stay apart even when he’d rather wrap Wataru in all four limbs and cling to him, riding out every lingering spasm that just won’t _stop._

 

“D…dunno…” His words slur, catching sloppily on his tongue. “It w-won’t…won’t stop now…” His eyes squeeze shut, his brow furrowing as he tries to get himself underneath control, can’t, and whimpers, unsure if he’s squirming to or away now. “I can feel you drinking from me,” he whispers. “Don’t…don’t stop.”

 

“Beg the sun to rise,” Wataru laughs to himself, pressing in until his hips press entirely forward, until there’s no space at all between the two of them for even air. “I couldn’t stop if you begged me.”

 

It’s probably not entirely true—he’s had a lifetime of practicing control, after all—but it _feels_ true in the moment, feels like he’d die if they ever needed to separate, even for a millimeter. He doesn’t stop, but his thrusts go more gentle, easing himself in and out, savoring the sweet rich pleasure he takes in every rock of his hips. “Can you stand it, a little more?” he whispers. “If not, let me know, I have other ways to finish.”

 

That slower, smoother pace makes Natsume groan, low and rasping. “If you keep going like that…t-that’s…that’s the best,” he breathes, his nails slowly kneading into the warm, solid muscle of Wataru’s back. “I’m gonna die, but…in a good way…”

 

His cock decides to give another, overstimulated throb, and Natsume’s entire body tightens, muscles in his thighs twitching as he clings to Wataru with them. “A really good way,” he gasps, his head rolling back as he shudders.

 

For the first time, Wataru feels something strange—there’s the slow fill of Natsume’s life force trickling into him, yes, but there’s a sense of his own flowing the other way, too. _Like in the legends,_ Wataru realizes, startled, though he keeps that surprise off his face. _How embarrassing._

 

Amused with himself, he keeps up the slow pace, happily torturing himself with gentle rocking motions, feeling the friction drive him insane. Twice, he has to reapply that twitch of magic, making it slicker, easier inside, until—“I won’t last,” he groans, hands grabbing hard at Natsume’s hips. “But you want me to fill you, don’t you? Ask me for it, Kitten—“

 

The way Wataru grabs at him, more than anything, makes Natsume gulp and squeak, arching even when his body doesn’t seem to want to respond to any other command. “I want to feel it,” he breathlessly manages, his voice hoarse, tears and sweat alike streaking down his face. Wataru could ask him for _anything_ right then, and he’d probably say it, or do it, no matter what it was. “I s-still remember—the last time, when you came in me—Master, fill me up, please…”

 

Wataru’s thrusts turn erratic, a very human sweat beading around his hairline, making him tense and tremble, hands grasping at Natsume’s thighs, pressing them down wide to the bed as he slams in deep. “You’ll never—be empty again.” His eyes glitter, otherworldly in the dim light. “By the time you’re clean—I’ll be in you again—from now—on—“

 

That’s all he can manage, before his skin tightens, heat rippling through him, ripping him apart, and he’s _whole_ again, draining that glorious pleasure from both of them, filling himself as deeply as he fills Natsume’s searing heat in thick pulses.

 

Being filled so completely makes Natsume’s eyes glaze, what’s left of his coherent thought leave him—and gods, that’s glorious. He twitches and groans, clinging helplessly to Wataru’s back, panting shallowly up towards the ceiling as sweat sticks them together, the scent of sex—and something like alchemy, bright and coppery like blood-riddled magic—clinging to his nose.

 

“That’s…so much…” Natsume dazedly says, his eyes fluttering. “Ah…don’t…pull out, don’t, only when I tell you to…”

 

“My old master would mock me relentlessly for this,” Wataru breathes, eyes lidded heavily, nuzzling into Natsume’s hair. “But, ah, bear with me…”

 

He braces his weight on one elbow, tracing little patterns on Natsume’s chest, his own hair spilling wild around them. “How do you feel? Not just physically, though I am curious about that, as well…”

 

Natsume sucks in a few long, tremulous breaths, his chest heaving slowly underneath Wataru’s touch until his eyes finally slit open again, glittering gold in the low light. “Like I was lit on fire and enjoyed it,” he breathes, his tongue sticking out to wet his lower lip. “That’s weird…right?”

 

That’s good enough to prove a point for Wataru, and he beams, starting to draw pictures in Natsume’s sweat on his chest, even if only Wataru can see them. “It’s an old legend, in my people. Mm, stop me if you don’t care, the thing I’d hate worse than anything is to be considered tedious, I’d rather be beaten daily for not being forthcoming.”

 

“No, tell me, I want to _know_.” Natsume sprawls out, wincing at how full he feels, but still unwilling to be separated if it means Wataru will be _this_ close to him and more or less stuck to him. “It smells like magic in here. More than the Shadowlands kind, you know what I mean.” 

 

“Of course. I’m not a Shadebred.” Wataru smiles, and leans down to press a kiss to Natsume’s cheek, just because he can. “There’s a legend, among our Elders. I only heard it as a young man, since my education as a child was…less thorough, than most. It says that when we partake of someone’s life essence—don’t worry, it grows back—that a truly open heart is vulnerable to letting it go both ways. Why, some said that if one of us were truly in love, their human lover could even feed upon _them_ , isn’t that incredible?”

 

Natsume’s brow furrows as he flips that around in his mind rather than settling on being embarrassed. “That sounds like…like a bond? Doesn’t it?”

 

Wataru’s lip curls just slightly, back from his teeth. “I…don’t think it’s the same thing,” he finally manages. “At least, I don’t believe it is. I hope it isn’t. To force you to be tethered to me for eternity…well. I wouldn’t wish that on most enemies, let alone on someone I cherish.”

 

“I’d _love_ to be tied to you forever, are you insane?” Natsume’s stare is bright, and he shoves himself up onto his elbows, staring directly into Wataru’s eyes. “You’re the strongest, smartest, most _amazing_ person I know—even if it’s not a bond…not the same kind, it’s even better, because it’s something _no one else_ can have with _you_.”

 

Wataru’s mouth falls open in surprise, then snaps shut with an audible _click_. This, for better or worse, is not exactly what he had expected, when he’d taken Tsumugi’s brokenhearted lover left behind into his bed. They were both broken pieces, yes, but who would have expected them to fit together so well? “You spoil this fey creature, Natsume,” he says softly. “It isn’t necessary. I’m already yours.”

 

Natsume smacks him across the cheek—gently, this time, with barely a sound to go with it. “I’m not spoiling you,” he quietly says. “I’m just saying what I feel. If that feels like spoiling, then I’m gonna _really_ need to spoil you later.”

 

Wataru nestles down into the bed, wrapping his arms around Natsume. “Spoil me by going into the Everyouth Valley to cure my plague. And you’ll have to do it soon, of course. The more we do this, the less human you’ll be.”

 

Natsume blinks at that, and butts his face into Wataru’s chest, inhaling deeply. The smell of sweat, sex, and magic is apparently _very_ alluring. “I’m going to cure you for sure, but…that doesn’t sound like a _bad_ thing, to be less human. I could be less human, and then I’ll live longer with you, right?”

 

“One assumes. I’ve never heard of this actually happening before, you understand.” Wataru hesitates, but more out of habit than genuine concern. “Cloudbred rarely take long-term pets, let alone consorts.”

 

“I can be an exception.” Natsume’s eyes gleam, and he grabs at handfuls of Wataru’s hair, tugging on it lightly. “I’m _gonna_ be. I’m not just a human, anyway, I’m the youngest Nightcloak ever. No one else will ever be a good as me.”

 

“Do you know,” Wataru says, not pausing in his slow, careful tracing of patterns, “I do believe that. If anyone could tame me to bridle, well…I never thought it would be you. But now, who else could it have been?”

 

“But I don’t want to put a bridle on you. Sounds _boring_.” Natsume shoves his face firmly into Wataru’s neck. “You can just go and I’ll be latched on for the ride.”

 

“Ah, little Kitten…” Wataru gathers him closer, eyes drooping closed. “What a ride it will be.”


	37. Chapter 37

Getting permission before doing things isn’t new to Souma. He’s done it his whole life, practicing obedience to his family, his elders, his teachers, everyone who he’s thought higher-up than he. Doing what Rei wants is little different, especially when the man is so careful not to give him any reckless or cruel orders.

 

Doing as a _Hakaze_ says, though…that is just intolerable.

 

The man orders him around as if he has the _right_ , and knows exactly which buttons to press to get his desired reactions. Finally, Souma snaps, getting permission from Rei to ride at the head of the column, taking the night watch as the caravan lumbers behind them.

 

Most of the caravan is made of merchants. It would be more suspect, they’d said, to travel as a small group of dangerous men, than it would to travel as part of a much larger group. Chiaki, Subaru, and Arashi ride as caravan guards, Rei as a wealthy jeweler, Souma and (to his displeasure) Kaoru as his retainers. For now, Souma leaves them behind, riding to the front of the column, night air streaming past his face. During the day, someone is usually singing, laughing, joking, or arguing. Just now, everything is silent, except for the clop of hooves on packed earth.

 

Surprisingly, Souma isn’t alone at the front. Kanata is there as well, on a borrowed horse from High Harbor’s stables, a tall and lanky creature with noble lines. A pang shoots through Souma’s heart at the thought of his own horse, left behind in the Hinterlands. He rides for a moment quietly, then brings his own borrowed mount into step with Kanata’s, clearing his throat. “Ah…good evening, Milord Kanata.”

 

Kanata’s head lifts as he blinks in surprise, startled that he’s being spoken to. For the most part, he’s been left to drift amongst his own thoughts—even Rei seems to grow tired of his constant mentions of missing the ocean, and Kanata supposes that’s fair. _It would be nice, to fit in so nicely with humans like that._ Even his hair doesn’t fit in, tied back in a ribbon at the back of his neck and also stuffed underneath a cloak to hide it. One odd-haired member of the group is already too many, what with Izumi being a veritable beacon. “Souma…was it?” he settles upon, barely resisting the urge to lick his lips. He can’t help it if he’s hungry, but… “Did you…need something?”

 

Souma shakes his head. “I apologize for interrupting your obvious solitude, Milord Kanata. If you wish to slumber in your carriage, I’ll execute the duty of the night watch with all of my power. It…it would be an honor to serve you, even in so small a way.”

 

Kanata stares at him for a moment longer before slowly leaning over, reaching out, and yanking on Souma’s ponytail. “…You speak…far too formally. I’m…not the Queen. That’s my mother. So don’t.”

 

Souma’s eyes fly open, and he swallows hard. “Ah, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. Ah, what should I call you then, Milord?”

 

“Kanata. Just Kanata.” Kanata’s fingers remain entrenched in Souma’s hair, not letting it go just yet. “Your line…is very pure. I can tell.”

 

Souma bobs his head, as much as he can when he’s being held fast. His pulse throbs in his throat, quick and light, torn between excitement and anxiety. “Y-yes, we’ve worked quite hard over hundreds of years to keep it pure, it’s…we’re the last pure line in the realm, I believe. All thanks to your kind, of course! The children of my house—we’re raised to praise you with our every breath and deed.”

 

“Silly. That’s silly.” Kanata releases him after another moment, though his nails take a few strands of hair with him. “My clan…these days…many of them would just see you as a meal.”

 

That gives Souma pause, far more than the light stinging in his scalp. He frowns, then asks, “What tales do they tell of the Exodus, then? In your people? I thought you were immortal, and memories would stay crystal-clear for the ages.”

 

“I’m twenty-five.” Kanata’s stare is a half-lidded one. “Your kind…left the isles a thousand years ago, did you not…? My mother…she likes to tell the story, sometimes, about how your great-great-great-great-great-great—“ He pauses for a breath. “Great- _great_ -great-grandfather…stole her sea turtle.”

 

Souma freezes. His eyes widen so far that the whites are visible the whole way around the irises, and his hands clench tightly on the reins. “W-what? That’s—that’s not what they tell us at all! That’s—no, no, my ancestors would never have done anything like that! They would have happily killed themselves rather than commit that sort of dishonor!”

 

“Ahh…now you’re saying my mother is a liar…? She’s the Queen of the Sea, you know…”

 

All the remaining blood drains from Souma’s face. “Is it possible…we’ve been lied to? For a thousand years? I must make it right at once! Please, take my life in penance for my ancestors!”

 

“Don’t say that…or I will eat you, and Rei says I can’t,” Kanata laments, leaning back with a sigh. “I’m teasing you…you make good faces. Your grandfather stole a turtle, but it was the bad one that my mother didn’t like…so it’s okay. And the next week, my clan helped the rivers part for your Exodus and gave you more turtles, so…in the end…was it really stealing…?”

 

All of Souma’s breath leaves him in a _whoosh_ , and he sags forward over his borrowed horse’s mane in relief. “Ah…I see. The intricacies of the ocean are mysterious, truly.” He smiles, suddenly cheerful and boyish, eyes shining up at Kanata. “If all of your people are as beautiful as you, I see why my honored ancestors thought they were gods.”

 

“…You’re a good child,” Kanata slowly settles upon. “I think…I’m rather plain, next to my mother…but thank you.” He pauses, contemplating if he should ask, then deciding it’s worth risking Rei’s irritation. “Why are you traveling…with Rei?”

 

“Oh, I belong to him.” It’s said without any hint of hesitation or shame. “To keep bloodlines pure, only the eldest son can inherit, and my brother is already taking care of the estate,” Souma explains. “My sister was to be married to a foreign Lord, but she died of illness, and rather than breaking the covenant, they were going to send me as a _bhenda_ bride—but didn’t tell my intended, and instead attempted to send me as a woman!” He huffs, folding his arms in front of his chest. “So I ran away rather than shame my ancestry. Then Milord Rei had me in his bed, so I belong to him now, to do with as he pleases. Hopefully I am not too much of a disappointment.”

 

“You know…that he’s a sex wizard, right…?” Kanata gently presses, unable to outright scold this child for being so obviously…removed from the situations around him. He’s very cute, and young, and all kinds of clueless. “And he’s…hmm.” Would Rei tell someone he’s obviously stringing along that he’s bonded? Kanata isn’t sure. How annoying.

 

Souma shrugs. “The amount of people he’s had doesn’t affect my duty. I chose to give myself to him, so I will gladly accept the consequences. I just hope I can be of some service. And…” A shy little smile stretches his lips. “And coming with him allowed me to see the ocean, the greatest dream of my life. I could ask for no more.”

 

Kanata’s line of thinking quickly switches trajectories. “That…was your greatest dream?” he asks, genuinely surprised. “Then…you could have stayed in High Harbor, I bet, if you asked…the sea there is the best of all.”

 

“But my lord was leaving,” Souma says, head cocking to the side. “How could I stay when he’s leaving? My honor would never allow it.”

 

“Maybe…I don’t understand how that works,” Kanata says with a little shrug. “But very little could take me…from the sea…willingly. My clan sent me away, and I’m still angry…”

 

Souma is quiet for a long moment. In the little motion of Kanata’s riding, forward and back on the horse, he can almost hear the ocean. “It must…be very lonely,” he offers. “I left voluntarily, and I still miss my family a great deal. We are…an insular people. So the outside world has not been…what I thought it would be. But I’ll do my best, of course!”

 

“What if he never lets you go back home?” Kanata softy asks. “Rei, he’s…a very important man, you know…and he doesn’t like going North.”

 

“…I don’t think I’ll ever go home.” Souma lifts one shoulder, and lets it fall. “I am not pleased with the choices they made, and doubtless they feel I have shamed them. Being in Milord Rei’s employ is the most honorable position I could hope for, in my current state. Men of my line—we are expected to adhere to certain standards of purity.”

 

“I don’t understand…human ‘purity’,” Kanata cheerfully says, a shrug of his own following. “Your kind are silly…some fish mate for life…but…not most…and even when they do, the seed of others can still fertilize their eggs~…and you’re male…so…it reeeeally shouldn’t matter…”

 

“But adhering to strict rules that go beyond biological imperatives is what gives us honor,” Souma declares, clenching a fist, trying to ignore the little spike of heat that goes through him when Kanata talks about fertilization— _get it together, Kanzaki._ “Everyone needs a calling and a duty, no?”

 

“Ummm…I suppose…?” Kanata blinks slowly at him. “Maybe because I don’t have that…other than Chiaki…that’s why my clan thinks I’m weeeird…”

 

“They’re wrong! I think you’re wonderful!” Souma’s face lights up, impassioned. “I’ve always dreamed—since I was a child, I’ve heard the stories of the Great Old Ones, including the Sea King, who parted the rivers and led us to freedom from our Island enslavement, on the backs of the giant sea turtles. And in return, we’ve guarded the river’s mouth, keeping all the water running to the sea pure, for a thousand years. How could anyone from a clan so generous and giving be less than perfect?”

 

“…You’re a good child,” Kanata says again, listing to the side in his saddle to pat Souma’s head. “But…just because my clan helped you…doesn’t mean they’re kind. And I’m part human…and a wizard…those things don’t make sense to them…so…’perfect’…isn’t a word for me, I think…”

 

“Be that as it may—for someone so young, you clearly have unknown knowledge of the ocean,” Souma protests, totally undeterred. “It would be quite a boon if you told me some things about it. Ah, if you’re too homesick, I would never impose, of course…”

 

“…No one else here really wants to hear about it.” Kanata settles back, a faint smile slowly curving his lips. “But…if you want to hear…I can tell you…until you’re sick of it, at least…”

 

Souma nods, almost frantically. “As long as you don’t mind telling me. Ah, sometimes I can accompany a minstrel on the flute, would that satisfy you?”

 

“You’re going to listen to me talk and like it, or I’m going to eat you no matter what Rei says.”

 

“That sounds very fair, Milord Kanata!”


	38. Chapter 38

A day’s ride from the Sandlands, and everything abruptly dries up.

 

Rei has taken this exact same route hundreds of times in the past (maybe even thousands—how old is he? he forgets), and he remembers this part painfully well. It’s when horses start to be a burden, soldiers start to become agitated about their water rations, and inns become infrequent on the road as forests dry up into sparse, rolling hills of dirt and eventually, nothing but sand.

 

Which means it’s time for him to take his leave, of course, but…

 

In the late evening, there’s little activity about their camp, save for the restless kicking of Izumi’s hobbled mare. Rei absently pets her on the nose as he passes by, receiving not a bite, but a pleased nudge in response, and carries on his way no matter his weariness. Traveling by night means clear roads and fewer questions, and, hmm, if he’s smart, maybe he should steal that mare right out from underneath Izumi’s nose, if only because she’s faster (and undoubtedly, far more responsive to someone like him).

 

First things first, he quietly slinks past the carriage Kanata curls up within at night, and flips open the latch with a wave of a finger. Kanata, wide awake, stares back at him with his eyes glowing an unholy green in the dim light, perched perhaps a pace from Chiaki’s sleeping form.

 

“Hungry,” he grumpily ‘greets’ Rei. “And so…so…dry.”

 

“The desert is like that,” Rei softly says, pulling himself inside and reclining back into Kanata’s bed. “Wake him up and eat, then.”

 

“No…too many people.” Still, Kanata stretches out a hand to pet Chiaki’s hair. “I won’t eat you all the way~…not yeeet…”

 

Kanata’s hand on his hair wakes Chiaki from a wild dream, and he surfaces with a slow intake of breath, looking up into Kanata’s clear blue eyes. His mouth curves into a soft smile, and he lays his hand on top of Kanata’s, squeezing it, not needing words. _He knows he saved me as much as I saved him, that day._

 

Several heartbeats later, he notices Rei, and begrudgingly lets go of Kanata’s hand, sitting up under his thin blanket. “Sorry, Excellency. Didn’t mean to sleep when someone could need me. Is there something I should be doing?”

 

“Ah, not particularly. But you’re the man that’s been loyal to my kind the longest here, so I thought I’d share my next move with you and you only.” Rei plops his chin down into his hand, his eyes lidded and glowing red in the dim light. “I’ll be leaving tonight. My plans don’t involve the rest of this little group, but to avoid any distress on your part, I’ll be leaving a charm that allows you to contact me as needed, with Kanata’s help.”

 

Chiaki frowns, and slowly nods his head. “I figured you had some things going on that you couldn’t tell me about. Are you taking any bodyguards with you? I know you’re quite powerful, but you’re only one person. If I can be of any help…”

 

“Mm, I’m going alone, but Kaoru also knows my plans, and will be leaving later to meet up with me. And I’ll probably steal Izumi’s horse, so extend my apologies to him in the morning for me, would you?” Rei says with a soft laugh. His eyes slide unhelpfully up the curve of Chiaki’s shoulder, to the juncture of his neck, and he says, because he can’t bite his tongue, “If you want to help, let me feed.”

 

Kanata growls, low and possessive, and Rei sighs, helplessly lifting a hand. “Sorry, sorry, too much, I know. I’m suffering, though—a completely pure, warm-blooded human is so hard to find these days…”

 

Chiaki pats Kanata’s hand, giving him a brief smile. “Thank you, Kanata, but he’s my liege lord. If he needs to, it’s not a problem, right? We both want him to be healthy.”

 

“Rei…gets too nippy,” Kanata grumpily says, scooting closer to Chiaki and curling his arms around him. “Don’t wanna share.”

 

The mistake now is that Chiaki has _offered_ , and Rei can’t shake that from his mind. He sits up, crawling over, his eyes glittering as his tongue flicks out to absently run over the tips of his own fangs. “I won’t bite hard,” he murmurs, hooking a finger into the collar of Chiaki’s shirt. If he tugs, it reveals the bite still obvious on Chiaki’s shoulder from Kanata’s own enthusiastic munching. “Well, unless you want that.”

 

Chiaki looks up at Rei, and feels an unaccustomed flush creep across his cheeks. Then he looks over at Kanata, eyes locking with his as he reaches up, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. “Ask him,” he says softly. “I gave him my life a long time ago, it’s up to him what I do with it.”

 

Kanata’s lips purse, and he curls his arms around Chiaki’s waist from behind, pulling his back firmly into his chest. “Chiaki…is mine,” he firmly says. “But…if Rei needs a little taste…”

 

Rei beams, immediately lurching forward to climb between Chiaki’s legs, now effectively trapping him between Kanata and himself. “I’ll be nice,” he breathes, running one finger along the arc of Chiaki’s neck. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in taking him from you. I would never _dream_ of doing that.”

 

A slow shiver makes its way through Chikai’s body. It’s always been this way, with him. He’s never quite understood the way people talk about how many times they bed down with their lovers every week, as if it’s something that one could possibly get enough of, no matter how long one lives. With him, the more he’s satisfied, the hungrier he gets, and he’s never been so insatiable as when he has Kanata at his side day in and day out. It’s a constant struggle, not to ask for more than his lover is willing to give, to not act as if he’s somehow unsatisfied—but just the tip of Rei’s finger makes his entire posture shift, head tilting to expose his neck. “I trust you, Excellency,” he says quietly, and tries to keep his voice steady.

 

That’s as much as Rei can stand before he strikes, his teeth immediately sinking into the column of Chiaki’s throat. Blood immediately wells from where his fangs pierce that taunt skin, and Rei sucks it up with a groan, his hands sliding up Chiaki’s thighs as he shifts closer, drinking deeply—though true to his word, no more than strictly _necessary_.

 

It takes effort to pry himself off, and his lips are stained red, his eyes glazed and cheeks flushed as his tongue drags over the bite mark. “You really…have a lovely taste to you,” he murmurs, scooting closer.

 

Kanata’s eyes are dilated, distracted now by the scent of blood, and he can’t stop from nuzzling his own face into the side of Chiaki’s neck, his tongue flicking out to run over where Rei bit as well. “That’s because…Chiaki is perfect,” he breathes. “And mine.”

 

All the air leaves Chiaki’s lungs in a huff, and his eyes flutter for a second before his mind catches up, sputtering facts—Rei has had his fill, but he’s still _here_ , still close, still grabbing his thighs, and Kanata’s mouth is on his neck. That’s enough to make him gasp, looking back and forth between the two of them. “A-ah, that’s right,” he says, a little uncertainly. “Ah, was that…satisfying?” His voice wavers a little, which he thinks is fine, since most of his effort is spent hoping Rei won’t slide his hands any farther up and notice his body’s reaction to that sudden, intimate pain.

 

“The problem with snacks sometimes is that it makes you even hungrier for a proper meal,” Rei sighs, switching to the other side of Chiaki’s neck, where his teeth lightly nip into his earlobe. His hands slink up further, one of which casually palms right between Chiaki’s legs as his tongue drags over the shell of his ear. “You don’t react like a human,” he murmurs, amused. “You react like you’ve got a sliver of drake in you, maybe.”

 

“Chiaki…apparently keeps up with one…well enough.” Kanata’s voice is breathy, obviously excited now more than annoyed. Maybe that’s Rei’s influence, or maybe he’s just calming down now that he realizes Rei isn’t going to do anything that he _really_ dislikes. He shifts, his own hardening cock rubbing against Chiaki from behind. “Reiiii…your magic always does this, you did this on purpose…”

 

“Maybe,” Rei cheerfully says, grinning as a hand skims up and gently pinches one of Chiaki’s nipples. “I can’t stop it now, that’s how it is.”

 

Chiaki wonders, in a vague, overheated way, whether this is what a rabbit feels like the second he sees the shadow of a falcon exploding in size above it. Kanata’s hands are strong and familiar, the press of his body something he’s _never_ been able to pull away from, and Rei’s are precise and confident, driving him to pant and squirm already. Kanata never teases him, Izumi always just takes what he wants, but Rei’s glinting eyes and plucking fingers tells him that he’s in for an…unusual evening.

 

He licks his lips, and makes a decision, leaning back against Kanata. As long as Kanata’s here, it doesn’t matter. As long as Kanata’s here, he can do anything, _be_ anything, and he grins. “Well…if that’s the way it is, then I won’t lose in enthusiasm—ahh!” One pinch of his nipple makes his cock twitch hard, stealing his breath, making his back arch. “They’re…sensitive, just so you…know…”

 

Rei’s fingers swiftly make work of the buttons of Chiaki’s shirt, and his cool palms swiftly follow over his skin afterwards. “Good,” he murmurs, slowly rolling another nipple between his fingers as he sucks on the side of Chiaki’s neck. His weight shifts forward, a thigh pressing between Chiaki’s legs against his cock. “Just watching you enjoy yourself…that really does it for me, you know?”

 

“Rei’s calmed down a lot now, huh?” Kanata fairly purrs, nuzzling into Chiaki’s hair as his hips absently grind forward. “Nnhh, Chiakiii…it feels good when he plays with you, huh…”

 

Only the thought of someone seeing him like this—their fearless commander, the man tasked with protecting them all, wriggling between two eldritch creatures—keeps Chiaki from making a _very_ loud noise. His thighs clench down around Rei’s, giving him the leverage to rub slowly against that hard muscle, his cock already straining in the loose trousers he wears for sleep while traveling.

 

One hand braces him on the bedroll, the other reaching back to grab Kanata’s arm for comfort as he grinds slowly forward, savoring that much friction. It’s one thing to do this with Izumi when Kanata is gone. That had been simple stress relief, though he likes Izumi quite a lot. This, though…

 

Kanata can _see_ him.

 

That more than anything makes him twitch, looking up into Rei’s glowing eyes, biting his own lip as another shudder of arousal rips through him starting at Rei’s fingertips, flaring hot in his neck. He’s overheated, but wallows in it, groaning, “K-Kanata…you’re…nnh, tell me how to show off…so you’ll like it…”

 

Kanata’s lips part, his tongue wetting them as he glances briefly to Rei. “Rei’s…better at things like that,” he softly says, and Rei takes the hint, his hands firm on Chiaki’s hips as he pulls back, but only long enough to neatly flip him around.

 

“This is better, hmm?” Rei’s fingers toy with Chiaki’s nipples a moment longer, lightly pinching, then pulling. He leans forward, his cock rubbing against the curve of Chiaki’s ass as he pulls Kanata’s hand to Chiaki’s hair. “If you keep your mouth busy elsewhere, Captain, no one’s going to hear the noises you want to make,” he breathes into Chiaki’s ear.

 

Chiaki settles himself on his hands and knees, finding his balance as he ducks his head, grateful for the shift. It’s much easier to hide his face like this, and easier still to keep quiet as he reaches for Kanata. He hasn’t done this as often as he’d like, mostly because both of them get too excited any time he tries, and they wind up doing it the other way instead.

 

Now, with Rei toying with him so much he feels as if he’ll come without a single real touch to his cock, he feels himself salivating, tugging at the bottom of Kanata’s nightshirt, not even looking up for permission before he ducks his head down, opening wide to suck the head into his mouth. The taste is already strong, enough to make him whimper around the thick head, and he has to reach down and grab his own cock tightly around the base to keep from losing himself too quickly.

 

Kanata inhales sharply, sagging back onto a hand as his thighs splay further apart. “Chiakiii…” His fingers twist up into Chiaki’s hair as his cock twitches against that warm, wet tongue, and he shivers as his hips twitch up on their own accord, sliding further down his throat. “You’re…that’s…”

 

Rei idly unravels the cord from his hair, letting it tumble down his back and over his shoulders as he reaches around, batting Chiaki’s hands away from his cock. “You don’t get to come yet,” he says against Chiaki’s neck as he leans forward, long, careful fingers tying the cord around the base of his cock once he yanks Chiaki’s trousers down to his knees. “You’re our plaything for now, aren’t you? That’s a good boy.”

 

Chiaki’s eyes open wide at the sudden spike of unfamiliar sensation, squeezed tight at the base of his cock. Then, the nearly panicky sensation of needing to come starts to recede, just a little, without taking with it any of the achy, trembly heat rippling through him. He pulls off of Kanata’s cock for a moment, letting it rest against his cheek, hand letting go of his own to curl around the base of Kanata’s cock. Rei’s words don’t make it any easier to keep control, not when he’s already shivering at the feel of Kanata’s cock leaving a wet smear on his face. “I…”

 

But anything he could say is too embarrassing, everything he wants to say even worse, so he just shifts his knees apart on the floor, letting his back arch as he dives back down, laving every bit of Kanata’s cock he can reach with the flat of his tongue, sucking on the head with urgent, wet little noises.

 

Kanata whimpers, clamping a hand over his own mouth to keep himself quiet when Chiaki’s mouth makes his hips buck forward, trembling fingers yanking on his hair to keep his head down. “Chiaki’s…really good at this part…” he pants out between his fingers, his eyes glazing. “Reiii, you should…”

 

“Mm, mm, I’m not going to be able to help myself,” Rei says with a breathless little laugh, uncorking a bottle of oil pulled from his waist with his teeth. The scent fills the still air, heady and highly fragrant, and he pours it over his fingers before a pair of them slide against Chiaki’s hole. “You’re so hot here,” he says, leaning forward and bracing on one hand as his fingers sink inside, immediately stroking, curling, spreading wider to open up Chiaki’s body to him. “There’s nothing better than that…ahh, it must be nice to be taken care of like this, huh…?”

 

Rei’s words are like magical caresses, wrapping around him and driving him to a higher level of arousal, a fever ripping through Chiaki’s body. His toes curl, arms quavering with the effort of holding him up, and his attentions to Kanata’s cock get sloppier, less accurate, but no less enthusiastic. It feels enormous in his mouth, bigger than it does when it’s in other parts of him, and breathing gets difficult. Or maybe it just feels difficult when Rei is stirring his body up like this, stretching his hole in a way that makes his cock twitch painfully against its binding.

 

Chiaki blinks tears from his eyes, looking up to meet Kanata’s. Being filled at both ends, even if it’s just a couple of Rei’s fingers, makes him feel like he’s on the very precipice of ecstasy, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that if Rei removed the hairtie, he’d spill himself immediately.

 

“Chiaki looks…so good like this,” Kanata whispers, rubbing a thumb over one of Chiaki’s flushed cheeks, trembling as he struggles not to shove himself deeper down Chiaki’s throat when Rei’s fingers sink in so deeply. His fingers drag through Chiaki’s hair, pulling him off, just for a moment, to catch his breath. “You can have it back…once he’s in you, Chiaki~…”

 

“I won’t keep you waiting, then.” Rei bends, pressing a kiss to the back of Chiaki’s neck, sucking gently before he draws his hand back, pouring more oil over the length of his cock. The head rubs against that slick, twitching hole before pressing inside, sinking in easily, spreading Chiaki wide as he rocks forward in one long, fluid thrust. “There,” he groans, his hands closing around Chiaki’s hips, squeezing, pulling him back.

 

The low rumble of magic shifts to a sharper crackle that makes Kanata’s breath hitch, and his fingers twist up into Chiaki’s hair anew, pulling him forward again. “Chiaki—please—“

 

It’s a good thing Kanata had pulled him off, since the first breech of Rei’s thick cock sliding into him makes Chiaki clench his teeth, gasping at the sudden stretch. His eyes roll back in his head, everything oversensitive, his skin tingling with heat, balls drawn up tight against his body.

 

He fumbles for words—often does, when he’s overstimulated like this—but the best thing of all is that neither Kanata or Rei seem to want him to be in control, neither of them need him to say _anything_. If anything, they seem happier to have him as their silent, compliant toy, a thought that nearly makes him burst the tie on his cock with how much he swells.

 

Obediently, trying to think around the swarm of sensations overwhelming him when Rei slides deep into him, he rocks forward, pawing at Kanata’s thighs, sliding the warm heat of his mouth onto Kanata’s pulsing cock again. It’s heavy with taste now, salty as the sea when it leaks over his tongue, just that hint of bitterness overwhelming his senses as he greedily swallows, over and over.

 

Rei bends forward over him, his mouth hot against Chiaki’s back, kissing and sucking wherever he can reach as he grinds forward, slow and thorough, barely pulling out with each thrust. “You’re being such a good boy,” is his low, rumbling praise against Chiaki’s skin, one hand circling around to thumb over his nipples, feeling the hard numbs almost tremble underneath his touch from overstimulation.

 

Kanata’s breath hiccups when Chiaki’s mouth wraps around him again, and he shoves forward, sliding deep down Chiaki’s throat with each thrust. It’s so much— _too much_ , especially with that low, buzzing magic making his own vision blur and his own skin too hot, making him squirm where he kneels. “Chiaki—I’m—“

 

That’s the last bit of warning Kanata gives before he comes with a ragged gasp, pulling on Chiaki’s hair, holding him down. Rei pauses, raking his hair back from his face, a finger tracing a droplet of sweat that curves its way down Chiaki’s spine. “Make sure you swallow all of that up,” he murmurs, stroking Chiaki’s back. “Then I’ll take care of you.”

 

The shudder that rakes through Chaiki is so strong it’s _visible_ , his whole body quaking with urgent, desperate lust when Rei stuffs him full. The words _swallow all of that up_ sound good, go straight to his straining cock so strongly it _hurts_ , and he swallows enthusiastically tongue working to lap up everything he can reach, but there’s so much. It spills over his lips, dripping back down onto Kanata’s cock as he swallows what feels like several mouthfuls, until the thick, sticky texture coats every part of his mouth, lips, tongue, teeth. He coughs, eyes glazing as he looks up, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, blissed out with every thrust of Rei deep inside of him. “P…lease…” he breathes, closer to a whine than anything, clinging to Kanata with trembling hands. “P-please, I need to—I have to come, please—“

 

Kanata bends swiftly, yanking Chiaki up to kiss him hard, his tongue mercilessly licking up whatever Chiaki missed. “It’s okay, it’s okaaay,” he breathes, his face flushed, fingers trembling as he pets Chiaki’s hair. “Rei’s gonna take care of you…”

 

“Whenever you want, you can,” Rei breathlessly tells him, his fingers swiftly unraveling the tie around Chiaki’s cock. He hears Chiaki’s pulse so strongly in his ears that it’s almost deafening, and he groans as he lurches forward, setting his teeth to Chiaki’s shoulder— _not_ over Kanata’s bite mark, he would never—before thrusting in hard, taking his own pleasure as swiftly as he wants Chiaki to have his own.

 

Chiaki had thought he’d come the second the tie is removed, but the shock of blood flowing back into his cock after so many long minutes is more startling than erotic, and he cries out, only barely managing to muffle it into Kanata’s thigh.

 

Now that he has his breath, it’s easier to brace himself, all the better to rock back onto Rei’s thick cock, the taste of Kanata still heavy on his tongue. His skin still prickles and tingles, and the ecstasy threatens to overtake him, especially when—

 

He bites his lip, then shifts his back, urging Rei to an angle that—

 

One strike over that perfect spot and Chiaki yelps, hands balling in the blanket. “M-more, right, right there, I’m almost—I’m—hard, please _please_ harder—“

 

Rei obliges, bracing his knees harder into Chiaki’s bedroll, his hands tightly wrapped about Chiaki’s waist, yanking him back onto his cock when he grinds forward, harder, faster, at exactly the angle that Chiaki’s arched back directs him. “You’re asking so _nicely_ ,” he groans, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as his own cock throbs inside, the clench of Chiaki around him so tight and sweet that it makes him shudder from head to toe. “Go on, Captain—be good for me, come on my cock—“

 

That accuracy is deadly accurate, striking the most delicious point deep inside Chiaki’s body, and when it’s being done by someone tall and strong with a deep voice and firm hands that hold him in place, Chiaki can do nothing but _delight_ in it.

 

He groans, unable to keep it down now, closing his eyes to luxuriate in the sensations washing through his body like crashing waves. Pleasure rips through him, as his cock jerks and spills in a long stream, splattering out so hard it arcs up and hits his chest before dripping to the blanket.

 

Even after, he keeps shoving himself back, mindlessly searching for more of that sensation, knuckles popping as he clutches the blanket, mouth open, drool trailing from his lip, eyes rolling back into his head. Finally, he shudders, and his front half collapses down to the bed, the other half of him still insistently pushing back.

 

“Easy, easy…Chiaki did so well, what a good boy…” Kanata whispers, petting Chiaki’s hair as Rei thrusts in through that release, through every twitch and spasm and arch of Chiaki’s body.

 

It doesn’t take long, not when Chiaki is trembling and squirming around him. Skin slaps lewdly against skin, sticking to one another as Rei bends forward, braced over Chiaki with one hand and biting down into his fist with the other, his fangs breaking the skin of his own hand as he spills deep inside, pulse after pulse filling Chiaki. He shivers from head to toe, the taste of his own blood the only thing that keeps him firmly rooted to reality when what follows isn’t anywhere close to the actual relief of an orgasm, but instead, the thudding, pounding pulse of magic through his veins. “There,” he finally manages to pant out, releasing his own hand from his teeth. “Ah…gods, you really are fun, aren’t you…”

 

Chiaki looks back over his shoulder through bleary eyes, blinking slowly as a smile spreads across his face. “Thank you,” he says, very honestly. “That was…really, really enjoyable.”

 

Then he slumps down, mouthing a kiss to Kanata’s thigh, hand dropping to between his legs. “Ah…does it stay hard, or—I could maybe go again, if you need to? I don’t know much about your species, sorry, but I won’t lose on energy!”

 

“Don’t,” Kanata firmly says, grabbing up Chiaki’s face in his hands and smooshing his cheeks firmly, “encourage him. He can’t stop if you do that.”

 

“He’s right,” Rei airily says, slowly, carefully pulling out and flopping backwards with a sigh. “And as much as I’d love to stay and do this all night, that so defeats the purpose of my plans…”

 

Chiaki curls up after that, relaxing in a way that he rarely can after going just once, head pillowed on Kanata’s perfect thigh. Rei is big, and he feels far more stretched out than usual, along with the odd sensation that he’d recently been so full and is now emptier than usual somehow. “Don’t let me keep you, then. Be safe, Excellency.”

 

Then he turns to face Kanata, eyes shimmering. “You liked that, right? You aren’t angry?”

 

“Chiaki’s still mine,” Kanata says happily, pitching forward to grab at Chiaki and squish him in his arms. “Rei was good…and didn’t bite where I bit…so everyone can still know you’re mine~…mmnn, and Chiaki smells like me still…”

 

Rei’s lips twitch into a faint smile, and he slowly rises, fastening his clothes. “Have a nice evening,” he says, and flips Kanata a single coin, glowing faintly in the darkness before it fades to something that looks entirely normal. “Keep that, and you’ll be able to contact me—once and only once, though. Bear in mind I’ll be quite busy.”

 

“We’ll manage,” Chiaki assures him. “Take care of yourself, Excellency. Ah, you should at least take my messenger boy, he’s very fast at running. Then you’ll have a way to contact us should you need anything.”

 

“Not necessary, but thank you.” Rei bends, scooping up his discarded hair tie with a smile as he turns to leave. “Until we meet again, my friends.”

 

And with that, he disappears into the night, brimming with power (and pleased about stealing a good horse).


	39. Chapter 39

Leo, son of the Crown Prince, youngest born of an ancient line, future ruler of the entire realm, does not like baths. He does, however, enjoy slipping away from his tutors, nannies, and governesses alike, enjoying hearing their shrieks of annoyance when he dodges nimbly down the hall in search of adventure.

 

Adventure never takes him to the same place twice. Today, it leads him down the road to his horse, already saddled for his afternoon’s riding lesson (he’s just early, it still _counts_ ). From the Palace, it’s only an hour to the Academy, or so he’s heard. It takes him more like two hours, because he has to stop and investigate several strange roadside protrusions alone the way.

 

Once he arrives, he’s delighted. It’s quiet, it’s secretive, it’s everything he wants to learn about, and it’s _full_ of little nooks and crannies for a six year old, short for his years, to explore.

 

It takes him hours to scramble everywhere he wants to go, before he comes across a conversation that is finally not boring. The participants are two men, tall and handsome, one dark and one light. The more Leo listens, the more engrossed he gets, until the dark-haired man finally storms out, fists clenched.

 

Not long after, curiosity gets the better of Leo, and he crawls out from his hiding place in the dumbwaiter tunnel, hands blistered and grimy from the cables. “Hi,” he says, by way of introducing himself to the tall, light-haired man. “What’s Inglings?”

 

Eichi jumps in surprise, startled into nearly dropping the cup of tea he’s been nursing throughout this conversation. He sets it down in short order, staring at the very small new arrival, takes in the sight of his hair, and settles upon immediately: “Your…Highness? I wasn’t aware your father brought you here today.”

 

“I’m not Highness,” Leo corrects. “My dad is Your Highness. I’m just Your Grace.” He hops up onto a high-backed chair, legs swinging back and forth as he stares up at the man. “You’re a wizard, right? That’s awesome! What’s an Inglings?”

 

“Forgive me, human hierarchy is _far_ from my specialty.” Or rather, it’s that he doesn’t care.

 

Whoever and whatever this brat is, he certainly has already taken residence in _Eichi’s_ chair like he owns the place. This is at least somewhat entertaining (adorable?) especially after an argument with the Demon Prince, who continues to be infuriating even when they eventually agree to do the same thing.

 

“Inglings are monsters.” Eichi leans forward over the chair, planting a hand onto one of its ornate arms. “And they’re coming to eat up everyone in the Capital, if we don’t destroy them first.”

 

Leo nods slowly. That fits with what he’d heard the two men talking about. “So you’re gonna ride out with that guy and beat them up? Are you doing it because you want to, or because the king told you to? He’s my grandpa.”

 

“Both. I want to, and His Majesty _asked_ me to.” Eichi smiles, plucking a little dustbunny from the top of Leo’s head. “He can’t _tell me_ to do much of anything, I’m afraid.”

 

Leo beams, showing a little gap where his first tooth had fallen out. “Awesome! So, how are you gonna fight the monsters? Are they really big? You look like an angel.”

 

“Is that what you think? How cute.” Eichi’s eyes lid. “They’re very big, and very dangerous. They’d like to eat up something like you, you know…but worse, are the demons that come from the Shadowlands.”

 

Leo shivers, in that pleasurable way he does when he hears a really scary story. His eyes go wide, and he starts kicking his feet harder, absolutely focused. “Tell me about them?” It’s a question, not an order, and his voice is eager. “The worst ones you’ve _eeeeever_ seen!”

 

“I have an assistant that literally can’t even listen to a single story about them, and he’s a fully grow man,” Eichi says, thoroughly entertained now. “Do you mean ‘worst’ in the bloody, gory way, or ‘worst’ in the breaks your spirit, sucks out your soul, and destroys your life way? There are many ways demon can be _terrible_ , Your Grace.”

 

Leo beams. “You can just call me Leo, if you wanna. Tell me the scariest one—the one that you saw in person! Are there any demons that give _you_ nightmares?”

 

“My mother, maybe.” Eichi smiles brightly, and spins a strand of Leo’s hair about one finger, giving it a light tug. “But the demons that come from the deepest, darkest depths of the Shadowlands…those are the most terrifying. The Demon Queen, for example. She’s beautiful, of course, but seduces human men at random when she comes out to play…has them for her pleasure…and then drains them dry of blood until they’re little husks, as dry as the leaves falling from trees in autumn. Then she crunches them underneath her heels and they fall apart into dust.”

 

Leo’s mouth falls open in horrified glee, eyes as wide as saucers. “What about the bones?” He asks in a heavy whisper. “How big is her feet? Can she crunch all the bones?”

 

“She doesn’t crunch them. She keeps them,” Eichi lowly says. “To build her throne with.”

 

Leo’s whole face lights up, shining with the gory details. “Aaaaaaahhhh, I wanna see! Does she drink just the blood, or does she eat the fat parts? How big is the throne? Who builds it? Where is it? Can I go? What’s your name?”

 

“She just drinks the blood, it’s bigger than your grandfather’s, she makes her human slaves build it in the Shadowlands, and no, you can’t go. Humans shouldn’t go to the Shadowlands if they want to live.” Eichi’s eyebrows raise. “And I suppose you can just call me Eichi, if I’m just calling you Leo.”

 

Leo beams a gap-toothed smile up at Eichi. “Wonderful!” he cries, with the air of a child who’s recently decided on a favorite word. “You’re really interesting, I wanna live here with you now!”

 

“You’d get bored,” Eichi hums, straightening as he leans back after a last tousle of Leo’s hair. “Magic isn’t all fun and games, and we don’t get to fight demons very often. This is just a special case. If we don’t stop demonkind from coming from the West…well, there won’t be a kingdom for you to rule someday.”

 

That’s sobering, and Leo nods seriously, looking up at Eichi with huge eyes. “But you and that other guy are gonna beat them up, right? Send ‘em to hell? Hey, wait, that’s where people go. Where do demons go when wizards kill them?”

 

“What a good question. I suppose it depends on how they’re killed…back to the Shadowlands, to the deepest parts of it where they’d have to crawl back out of it again if they ever want to Be again…or maybe they just cease to exist, if they’re blown apart thoroughly enough.” Eichi pauses, looking down at him, and he almost reaches out to touch Leo’s hair again before stopping himself. “Maybe,” he murmurs, “I’ll still be here when you’re king.”

 

“You’d better be. I’m gonna be in charge of the Academy then, I think?” Leo’s head cocks, as if he can’t quite remember. “Grandpa and Father fight about that. Grandpa is very strong and good, right? He’s the strongest human _ever_.”

 

Eichi laughs outright at that. “Is that what they tell you?” he asks. “I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. The Academy doesn’t belong to the crown—though I’d be happy to work with someone like you, if you continue being this clever.”

 

“I’m too clever for my own good,” Leo says seriously. “That’s what my tutors say. But they’re slow and easy to run away from, so how much could they teach me? They’re always trying to talk about arithmetic and other stupid stuff. What are the demons in Inglings coming to do? How big are they? How are you gonna kill them?”

 

“You certainly have a much more refined face when you stop talking,” Eichi mildly says, stifling a cough behind his hand as he pulls up another chair, letting Leo continue to have his own. “They want everything that humans have. Warm places to sleep, good food, fresh water…but the problem, of course, is that they _aren’t_ human, and they’re willing to kill us all to take what we’ve worked for. Some are normal sized—others are _enormous_ , we call those berserkers. And we kill them by…well. Wizards are very good at making things explode when we want to be, you know?”

 

“Really?” Leo sits up straight, and reaches up, tugging on one of Eichi’s sleeves. “Make something blow up! Please?”

 

“You’re very destructive for a child, do your tutors tell you that, too?”

 

“Yeah! So, can you do it?”

 

Eichi rolls his eyes, then casually snaps his fingers, a nearby vase shattering to pieces by some unseen force. “Imagine that being a huge monster body—blood and guts _everywhere._ ”

 

Leo’s face is a study in absolute delight, and he claps his hands, legs swinging furiously. “Wonderful, wonderful! I want to come with you when you blow up all the monsters, can I come? It’ll be a good, um, learning experiment!

 

“Mm, nope, you’re too little. Grow twenty centimeters first.”

 

“Awww, no fair!” But Leo seems less angry, and more overjoyed by the whole notion of how _cool_ this is, opening up a whole other world of incredible feats for him to explore and learn about. “Can you tell me all about it when you come home? What if you die and the monster eats you, are you gonna see out of its eyes?”

 

“I won’t die, I’m too strong for that to happen.” Eichi’s smile is wry. “And I don’t know—are you going to sneak out again to talk to me? Somehow, I think your father’s going to be very annoyed with you if you do.”

 

“But you want me to, right?” Leo’s smile is open and guileless, but utterly determined.

 

Eichi opens his mouth to reply, but it is, unfortunately, the Demon Prince that moodily pokes his head right back around the corner. “If that’s who I think it is,” he says, “then His Highness is throwing an _actual_ royal fit looking for him.”

 

“Oh, so you’ll speak to me now? Delightful,” Eichi sighs, rising slowly to his feet. “Leo, this is the Demon Prince Rei, first son of the Sakuma name. He’ll be helping me destroy the incoming threat, even though he seems to find the idea somewhat repugnant.”

 

Leo hops resignedly off of his borrowed chair, then walks over to the newcomer, taking one of his hands in both of Leo’s. “Thanks for saving the world,” he says, very seriously. “I hope us humans do enough good stuff for you that it’s worth it!”

 

Any response Rei would have come up with is lost, and he stares down at Leo for a moment before patting his head. “Don’t worry, they have,” he quietly says. “Your father’s waiting down the hall on the left, don’t keep him waiting, all right?”

 

Leo huffs, blowing the bangs out of his eyes. “Wow, I must have been gone longer than I thought if my _dad_ actually came! Haha!”

 

He turns, squeezing Rei’s hand for one more moment, then faces Eichi once more. “I probably won’t be able to sneak out for a while, but it was really good to meet you! Let’s talk again when you get back from crushing monsters, okay?”

 

“Any time, Leo.” Resisting the urge to touch the boy again is…difficult, and annoying for some reason, but Eichi decides it has to do with generally wanting to pet something small. “We’ll make it something of legends, I’m sure.”


	40. Chapter 40

Rei knows the auction houses in the Sandlands like the back of his hand.

 

Perhaps that isn’t something to boast about—even with honorable intentions involved—but in this case, it makes it very easy to find where he’s going, and who he’s here for. Mao’s directions are as crystal clear as always—he’ll never find another spy as skilled, no matter how he torments the boy—and Rei beelines to the largest auction house within an hour of the royal family’s palace.

 

It takes effort not to immediately run off to the palace, but…plans are plans, and he needs to trust that Shu isn’t incapable of following them, even under duress.

 

The plan _is_ a simple one. Mao’s infiltration within the ranks of traders is already set; now it’s a matter of becoming a reliable buyer, and an extremely wealthy one at that. Setting that stage with Keito being available for puchase—and a capital man _will_ fetch a high price at auction, even without Rei’s prodding—puts Rei in a prime spot to become a buyer that traders will court, and with that…someone who can directly find those high up in the business, if he has enough money to flash about (and he does).

 

What he _doesn’t_ expect is a bidding war with a scrawny, hooded, mustached man. Rei does actually wish that he wasn’t disguised and could unleash the full fury of the Demon King onto whoever will _not_ stop trying to purchase Keito, who looks a mix furious and trying not to faint, in that way he does. Keito, for all of his abilities, is not Shu. Keito, for all of his abilities, cannot hold his own against a damned fly if it’s anything physical, and so—

 

Rei wins, with a resounding last, crushing bid, and loathes the hours he has to wait before retrieving his ‘prize.’

 

In the meantime, the other, fixated bidder leaves too quickly. Rei decides the correct thing to do about that is follow, as subtly as he possibly can. That is, until cornering the idiot that dared to even _think_ of buying what’s his (a stupid way to think about it, perhaps, but _that’s_ where he is at the moment) outside of the auction house, directly into an alleyway, is inevitable. “Hello, my adversary,” he greets, perhaps too cheerfully. The sun is _too_ bright, every sound is too loud, and he’s more annoyed by the moment. _Maybe I should have brought Kaoru immediately after all._ “Do you speak common tongue?” Then, fluidly, in Sandtongue, “Or should we be having a conversation like this before I kill you?”

 

Leo cocks his head, then responds in incredibly careful Sandtongue, “You are the winner of the buying, yes? So you should feel happy, my friend.” He smiles, showing all of his teeth, and adds, in the Common Tongue, “But you made a mistake of bidding on something I want in there. So I may have to kill you as soon as you try to leave with him.”

 

 _A Capital accent._ It’s impossible to ignore that neatly spoken common tongue, wrought with every sign of someone well-learned. It brings Rei a moment of pause before he decides he’s had enough. One scrawny, obnoxious pervert of a human isn’t worth his time.

 

A dagger flips into his hand casually—he’s shit with them, really, but that’s not the point—and he steps forward, one too-fast, inhuman stride catching the other man by the throat and shoving him hard into the stone wall behind him. He lets his fangs flash, just a glint of them in the too-bright sun. “If you were any less disgusting, I’d have a proper drink before I gut you,” he lowly hisses. “What’s your house, so I can know to slaughter them all as well?”

 

Leo yanks back, hood falling off to reveal his unmistakably bright hair, the mustache hanging on to his lip by a single dangling bit of paste. His face doesn’t give an inch, though, no matter that his false spectacles fall from his nose to shatter on the pavement. “You wouldn’t be able to handle them,” he snarls, grabbing in his belt for his knife, getting it up in time to slice at the intruder’s stomach.

 

Only out of startled luck does Rei catch Leo’s wrist, stopping his thrust out of sheer strength alone. “ _Majesty?”_ His own dagger clatters to the ground as Rei abandons it in favor of throwing back his hood, the illusion of his own disguise melting before Leo’s eyes (and Leo’s eyes only) in an instant, revealing his wild, dark hair and pale skin instead of the tanned, wrinkled face of an old man from the Sandlands. “The hell are you doing here? At a place like this?”

 

Leo’s mouth drops open, and he lets out a startled, delighted laugh at the sigh of Rei, his hand going limp on the knife. “Hahaha! I heard there was someone from the Capital being auctioned off today, and came to make sure it wasn’t your consort or anyone like that. Imagine my surprise!”

 

“…Imagine,” Rei manages, heaving a sigh and releasing Leo’s hand. He rakes a hand back through his hair, shaking it out of his face. “That’s fine, I suppose. Now at least I don’t have to kill anyone…yet,” he allows. “Your disguise is absolutely terrible, though, and I won’t tell you otherwise. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

 

“But you didn’t know who I was,” Leo points out, with an insouciant grin. “So how bad could it have been? You know me, you know? Ah, good, congrats on your purchase!”

 

“Keep your voice down and put your hood back up.” Rei pulls it up for him, a frown on his face. “In hindsight, it was obvious. Forgive me, Majesty, but there are much bigger threats at large here, and I haven’t the time to keep an eye on you while I address them. If you wait a day, I’m sure your Kingsguard will be here to scoop you up.”

 

Leo scowls, folding his arms over his chest, cloak flapping a little behind him. “I’m not here to be scooped up. I’m an _action_ king, so quit expecting my father all over again.”

 

Rei pulls up his own hood again, his expression decidedly neutral. “Really. What was your plan of action then, if I may ask?”

 

“I heard there was someone from the Capital being auctioned off. I thought if I could save and talk to them, I’d be a little closer to finding the folks responsible for the whole thing.” Leo shrugs a shoulder. “Not my fault you got there first!”

 

“You know, this is why you assigned others to deal with this in the first place—so that you didn’t have to put yourself into immediate danger. You already have the most capable people that could be involved, _involved_.” Rei pauses, heaving a sigh. “I don’t relish scolding you like a child,” he adds grumpily. “But I very much _did_ offer up my consort to keep _your_ royal ass out of danger, so perhaps acknowledge that.”

 

Leo takes in a deep breath, then nods, looking away from Rei’s eyes. “I got worried. Everyone’s been gone for so long, and there’s no word—and then we got news that even more noble children have gone missing, did you hear the youngest son of the Hinterlands nobles has disappeared? They’ve been shrieking at me to do something.”

 

Rei opens his mouth, then shuts it. “That one I have a solution to,” he mildly says. “He’s in my possession. But the rest—it’s been difficult to send messages directly to you in the Capital. I can bring you up to speed, but that comes with you absolutely not stepping into an auction house again.”

 

Leo hesitates. “There…are a lot of kids in there,” he says quietly. “Even when we bring down the whole ring—they won’t all be safe. Some of them are going to get hurt tonight, probably. I have money. I could save them. What kind of king am I if I don’t go in there and stop this?”

 

“You can’t stay here and do it every single day, can you?” Rei shakes his head. “You said it yourself—even after we bring down the whole ring, they won’t all be safe. The Sandlands will still exist…and the economy is based on prostitution, and this trade. Slaves will still be bought and sold. What we have to focus on now is destroying this ring, which isn’t just effecting these children directly, but potentially children in this entire country. It’s funneling up to the Hinterlands, and even to the Isles now.”

 

“So?” Leo demands, suddenly furious, though his anger isn’t directed at Rei. “What do we do about it? We’ve got all these grand plans, but—when is it going to _happen_?”

 

“Now. Why do you think _I’m_ here?”

 

Rei grabs him by the back of his cloak, scruffing him like a cat to steer him further down the alleyway. “My spy has already infiltrated their ranks. Once I get to pick up my purchase, I’ll be asking to speak with one of their master traders—for more, similar goods, of course. And I’m hoping I can immediately be proven correct from my sources about who is in charge, and subsequently, fucking murder them and everyone associated once I have a proper list of names. This is the center of it all; once the head is cut off, the limbs will slowly die.”

 

That’s a _good_ answer, and Leo slowly exhales, nodding as that starts to sink in. _Now_ —that’s a good time, that means this is almost _over_ , and they can go back to making the country something to be proud of instead of something to fix. “All right. If it’s tonight, I’ll come with you. You could use some muscle.”

 

“You will _not_ be coming with me, Majesty.” Rei turns him around, leaning down over him to hold his gaze. “I appreciate your intentions, but you are, in fact, the king. Staying alive and out of this mess directly is what you should be doing.”

 

Leo sighs. “I have _got_ to produce an heir already so I can start doing what I want,” he grumbles, not entirely deterred by Rei’s glare. “Hey, give Keito my regards. And treat him gently, wahaha!”

 

“It’s hilarious that you think I trust and believe you to actually lay low right now. Where are you going to run off to when and if I let you go?”

 

Leo opens his mouth, then shuts it again, narrowing his eyes up at Rei. “What should I tell you that would make you let me go?” It’s not like he can say _I’m being guided by a dead angel in my head,_ after all.

 

“The truth.” Rei casually backs him into a wall, neatly trapping him there with a hand planted next to Leo’s head. “It starts quietly, but the longer I’m near you, the louder and louder the magic around you becomes—loud, and unbalanced, and very, very wrong. Even a human should be able to feel it.”

 

“I’m no wizard,” Leo says quickly, avoiding Rei’s eyes again. Eichi had told him—dream Eichi, the one that probably doesn’t exist—that wizards can see truth in human’s eyes, if they know what to look for, and Leo has no doubt that Rei does. “What magic could I be doing, huh? If there’s magic—you’re the wizard, you should be hunting it down, right?”

 

“I know you aren’t doing it. At least, not knowingly.”

 

Rei’s head tilts, and he bends low, coming eye level with Leo. “Even humans are capable of magic, given the right tools,” he softly says. “You were bonded to one of the most powerful wizards of this age. Did you really think that would just…go away?”

 

“He broke it.” Sudden, wild, unreasonable despair wells up in Leo, and he grabs Rei by the front of his shirt, knuckles white, eyes frantic. “He broke it, didn’t he? He had to—or I’d die, and everyone seems to think I’m still alive—“

 

He breaks off, breathing hard, face pale, hands shaky. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it when I’m awake,” he finishes, in a hollow whisper. “So he broke it. He had to. It’s over.”

 

Pity briefly flashes across Rei’s face, and he circles an arm around Leo’s shoulders, pulling him into his chest. When Leo is so close, the noise—the complete and utter cacophony of that magic—it’s all too clear in Rei’s ears, and he exhales a long breath, resting a hand to the top of Leo’s head and blanketing those sounds with a layer of his own power, a heavy, shimmery layer of magic whose sole purpose is to dampen. “Creatures like him…what they leave behind—it’s more alive than most humans that walk and breathe,” he quietly says. “If you’re dreaming of him…those aren’t the dreams of a madman.”

 

Those are the words that Leo has both longed and feared to hear for years. He gulps in a huge, shuddering breath as some of the racket (it’s always so loud in his head, why is it so _loud_ , why won’t it ever shut up shut up shut up shut up shut UP SHUT UP) starts to fade. He looks up, eyes wide, lip quivering. “Can I…have this all the time?” he whispers, hearing himself plead and hating it. “Or is it only when I’m close to you?”

 

 _Oh, dear._ Rei glances skyward, checking the time, before he simply loops an arm about Leo’s waist and lifts him, holding him close to his chest as he strides off. They have time—at least three hours before he can retrieve Keito and put his plans into action. “There’s a proper spell for it,” he answers. “Instead of a temporary fix, like this one…but you might not like it.”

 

“Oi,” Leo mutters, though he doesn’t squirm too hard. “You can’t just cart me around, that’s not very dignified.” Then he huffs, and buries his face in Rei’s shoulder, snatching at the scant comfort that it offers. It’s not for him, and he’s not even entirely sure that he _trusts_ Rei completely, but the cessation of the constant cacaphony in his head is worth a little compromise. “Whatever you do can’t be worse than the way it is right now,” he finally says.

 

“That’s the way I think about it, but it’s not a very healthy way to approach it,” Rei brightly says, pulling Leo’s hood more firmly down over his face as he steps into the main throng of the market. Deciding to stay in this area of the city was a calculated choice, but it means that it’s that much more important to be unrecognizable—and Leo, unfortunately, catches every single eye if he isn’t careful.

 

It’s a short walk to the inn, and he ducks inside, the sounds of the busy streets left behind as he makes his way up to his room. “If you don’t want to do it the thorough way, then I’ll put a charm on you,” he says, unlocking his door and dropping Leo unceremoniously onto his bed. The light in the room is dim, and Rei drifts away, lightly touching the wick of a candle, which immediately bursts into flame. “But the long and short of reducing an Archdemon’s influence in _any_ capacity requires some intensive spellwork…and fortunately for you, my kind is particularly good at it.”

 

“Arch…demon?”

 

Leo blinks around at the bare room, as if he’s never seen the room of an inn before. “I thought he was an angel. Ah…now that I say it…it sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” His knees tuck up to his chest, and he suddenly feels very young, very dumb, and very small. “I’ve always thought he was.”

 

“His kind certainly look like them, don’t they?” Rei wryly says, dropping down onto the edge of the bed and reaching out to pull Leo’s hood down again and patiently pet his hair. “They call themselves that, even. But they’re demons of the darkest, deepest sort, straight from the lowest depths of the Shadowlands. It’s rare that they emerge, rarer still that they take a human form in these lands. The Lord of the West, Arashi? He has some of that blood in him. I would be more surprised if it _wasn’t_ Eichi’s.”

 

“Arashi? Wow. I just…” Leo’s throat works for a moment, unable to form words. But no, that’s just cowardice. He steels himself, and asks, “Is it really him? That I’m talking to at night? Or is it just an imprint left behind?”

 

“That’s…hard to say. I don’t think Archdemons can truly be killed—their spirits reside elsewhere in the first place. So it’s probably somewhere in-between. I know that’s not the answer that you want to hear, but…you aren’t hallucinating, at least,” Rei says with a little shrug. “For example—a friend of mine, another Nightcloak…he specializes in consuming magic and life force. It’s how he survives, it’s his food. He ate your lover’s frayed bond, and cleared that away. That wouldn’t work on you; the magic is too strong, and his presence still so…saturating. He cast a lot of spellwork around you to protect you, and it lingers, even if it’s misfiring now.”

 

“If it’s that much, what can you do?” Leo asks, hands balling into fists. “It—gods, this is _so like him_ , you know? I didn’t _ask_ for him here, I didn’t _want_ him, I—I mean, yeah, I liked him a lot, but he was the _worst_ , and then he had to go and—and die? For me? I mean, I killed him, but he could have taken me down with him, and he actually did _something_ noble for once, but he won’t—stop—fucking—haunting—me—“

 

He’s rambling, teeth chattering, and he snaps them shut with an audible click and an effort of will. “Sorry. I don’t…Izumi doesn’t like hearing about it.”

 

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Take your cloak and shirt off and lie down, facedown. You can keep talking.” Rei slides away again, pulling over the single piece of luggage brought with him. “Even if it’s as saturated as it is, I can still do quite a bit. His magic and mine, they’re in direct opposition—that is, he’s _entirely_ weak to mine. I can cancel out quite a bit of what he left behind on you, and then we can work on dampening the rest.”

 

“Will he know?”

 

The words are soft, ashamed, as Leo does as he’s told, lying facedown on the bed after stripping to the waist. “Whatever…imprint, or what’s left of him. Will he know what I’m doing?”

 

“What you’re really asking,” Rei quietly says, shucking his own cloak before he pulls out a bottle of oil from his bag, “is if it will hurt him by turning these spells back. It won’t, he’s disconnected from them entirely, whatever’s left of him. They’re lingering in a way that isn’t helpful for you or to him.”

 

He rolls the bottle around in his hands before uncorking it, and pouring a thin line of it directly down Leo’s spine. A single finger follows the bumps in Leo’s spine, and underneath Rei’s touch, with every rune he sketches out, the oil’s scent blossoms into a dark, heady floral. “It’s gotten worse recently, hasn’t it? Those sounds, all of that noise. That’s why I can hear it now, too.”

 

Shivers run down Leo’s spine, augmented by the power running through his soul. “I don’t know what…changed. In the—in the dreams…he said it was my fault. That I wanted him back so bad I summoned him. But that’s…that’s not right. I don’t think it is, anyway. I didn’t miss him like that until they started, the dreams.”

 

“No less than half a dozen channels to the deepest parts of the Shadowlands have opened within the past two months.” Rei’s touch pauses at Leo’s lower back, his thumb dragging up, digging into the small of it before sweeping upward into another rune. “Because of the trade in the Hinterlands, and the work in the mines bordering the Shadowlands. Too many things have been woken up, too many things have been disrupted. That’s why.”

 

Leo frowns. He hadn’t been expecting a real answer, not one that seems to make sense. “Does that mean…gods, does that mean he could come back?” His first reaction is a forlorn, aching hope—the second, utter terror.

 

“No.” _Not in your lifetime._ Rei doesn’t say that, because what’s the point? “He won’t come back. But…that is why you’re feeling him and his magic so strongly now.”

 

Rei’s fingers splay over the back of Leo’s neck, smoothing the oil there as well. “This might feel strange,” he lightly says. “Like quite a bit of pressure lifting at once.”

 

That’s the only warning he gives before each run flares to life, glowing bright red against Leo’s skin before fizzling away to fragrant smoke. With their disappearance, magic visibly dissolves with enough color that it would be visible even to a human’s eye—glittering filaments of gold and blue and green, slipping off of Leo and fluttering away.

 

Leo’s breath all leaves his lungs at the same time, and he yelps at the sudden flash of power across his skin. The ever-present prickling of magic into him—now that he’s conscious of its removal, it had felt like fine needles, all pricking him and digging into him and _tearing him apart for years_ —suddenly sort of _flattens_ , and he’s left gasping, like a man coming up for air after being submerged. “I—what did you—that feels _so_ weird, really…hnnnnn it’s like being struck by lightning, is that normal?”

 

“Mmhm. Now, that’s just the spellwork he left behind—we haven’t gotten to dampening the bond yet, this has to sort of melt away for a moment before we can.” Rei’s hand slides down from Leo’s neck, smearing a few of the oil-written runes away as the smoke and light starts to fade from them. “If you feel better after this…that might be all you want me to do, that’s your choice.”

 

Leo shudders, facedown on his stomach, feeling the fabric pressing into his cheek with what feels like more clarity than usual. “I thought it was broken,” he says softly. “And this was just the remnants. He—if he didn’t break it, I would have died…and I didn’t, right?” His voice cracks a little, and he buries his face again, ashamed.

 

“No, no, you didn’t die, you’re still very much here, Majesty,” Rei murmurs, his fingers soothing against Leo’s back, slowly, gently petting him now in a way that has nothing to do with magic. “It’s broken…but the pieces that remain are what trouble you. That’s those noises in your mind, that constant bother—I can’t get rid of the bond, but I can at least make it shut up most of the way. That’s a much more involved ritual, though, and you might not be comfortable with it.”

 

“Do it.”

 

Leo speaks the words in a tone of command, silencing the greater part of his mind that screams at him— _But I’ll miss him, but no one touches me like he does, but I need his advice, but I want him so badly I can’t breathe._ “Do it now, do it—before I can change my mind, I don’t know if begging or ordering will get you to do it faster, I— _please_ —“

 

 _Wouldn’t you like to know what it entails first?_ Rei almost asks, but he exhales a heavy sigh instead, and grabs Leo by the arm, flipping him over in one, smooth pull. “If you change your mind in the middle of this, it won’t work,” he lowly warns, his eyes glittering deep red in the low light of the room as he crawls over him, hair swinging forward over his shoulders to pool around Leo’s face. “I can’t stop once it’s started—not myself, and not the magic, either.”

 

_Eichi grabbing him into his lap and sliding a collar around his neck, Eichi moving deep inside him, Eichi laughing and calling him Kitten, Eichi touching him like no one else ever has, Eichi holding him close and looking so flustered that he’s feeling the same way—_

 

_Izumi, looking at him with love, longing, concern._

 

“It’s not real,” he says, and if the words come out a little wet, well, Rei isn’t an idiot, he’ll understand. He looks up into those burning red eyes, and meets them with his own, reaching his hands down to hook his thumbs in his waistband. “It’s this, right? All your magic is like this, so it’s fine.” No more a betrayal than what he does every night while he’s asleep.

 

“Mm. It’s like that.” Rei pauses, and reaches down to still Leo’s hand for a moment. “If you’d be happier putting it in me, I don’t mind.” It’s not like he’d regularly offer, but Leo is…a special case, especially in this scenario. “Otherwise—well, I _will_ make this feel good, ritual or no ritual.”

 

“Does it…” Leo bites his lip, cheeks pink. “Does it have to be inside like that? I just…I don’t do it. With anyone except Izumi, now.”

 

Rei heaves a sigh, shrugging one shoulder. “The long and short answer is yes, unfortunately.” He flutters a hand. “I’ve tried working high-level magic with mouths and hands, it’s just not the same…something always ends up going the wrong way, and if I can’t make it work, no one can. I’ve actually never seen a sex magic spell without mentioning penetration—unless you’re talking about drinking someone’s seed in copious amounts, but _that’s_ a whole other issue.”

 

“You don’t have to say it so blatantly,” Leo mutters, manfully attempting to will away his embarrassment. “I—look, I don’t do this kind of thing as often as Izumi, but…if it has to be that way…you just do it. You’re probably, you know.” He looks away, and says quietly, “Better at it.”

 

“Sorry, I sometimes forget humans especially dislike talking about sex so frankly—Shu’s the same as you, it’s adorable. If you as much as say the word ‘cock’, he turns as pink as his hair.” Rei’s eyes lid as he lifts a hand, long fingers gently splaying over Leo’s throat. “Two options that might help. One, I can take a little drink—the venom of my kind is like an aphrodisiac to humans. Two…well. I can certainly take on the shape of your lover, if you’d be happier about that.”

 

Leo sucks in a long breath. His heart thuds painfully in his chest—it’s not that it’s just _sex_ , he wants to say, it’s that he doesn’t _do_ this with people he doesn’t love. But that’s a child’s plea—and besides, Izumi will be so happy if he’s finally _healed_. Oh, he hides it, but every time Leo says something that isn’t quite _right_ , he sees the way Izumi looks at him. “It would be…more of a violation to have you look like him, I think,” he says quietly. “And it’s not like you’re bad to look at. Nnh, I totally want to try your venom, though!”

 

“That’s the spirit.” Rei’s tongue runs over the tips of his fangs, and he shifts back, curling his fingers into the waistband of Leo’s trousers. “These are coming off,” he cheerfully says. “I’ll take a bite from your thigh so no one sees any marks on you.”

 

A little wriggle is all it takes, since Leo has always been remarkably good at getting naked when it serves his purpose. “It’s not weird, is it?” he asks suddenly. “I know you’re not human, does it look human? Just tell me beforehand if it is weird so I have a chance to think about it.”

 

“It’s _just_ like a human’s,” Rei reassures him, helping to tug Leo’s trousers off his ankles and toss them carelessly to the floor. Unceremoniously, he tosses one of Leo’s legs over his shoulders, his mouth hot against the inside of his knee, then further up his thigh, sucking on that soft skin as if priming it. “I’m still half-human, you know,” he murmurs, tongue dragging over the same spot, feeling that thudding, pounding of Leo’s pulse just beneath it before biting down, sinking his fangs in deep.

 

That is…certainly a sensation. Leo lets it course over him for a minute, considering the feeling, before he decides that it’s not nearly as bad as it could be. If anything, it feels no worse than a bug’s bite—but far, far more intimate, somehow, and not just because of the location. A tremor wracks his body, attacking his nervous system, and his cock springs suddenly to life, though it had been hardly interested before. “O-oh,” he groans, looking down at the frankly erotic sight, watching Rei brush his lips over his thigh. “That…I see…how do I taste?” Honestly, who wouldn't want to know?

 

Rei slowly pulls himself back, his lips rouged with the color of Leo’s blood before his tongue flicks out to lick it away, not wasting a drop. “Rich,” he settles upon after a moment’s contemplation, lowering Leo’s leg. He pulls his own shirt off and over his head, shaking out his hair afterwards. “A little sweet, even…much more full-bodied than I expected. Sorry, I’m talking about you like you’re wine,” he says with a laugh, smoothing his hands up Leo’s sides to his chest, where his thumbs drag over his nipples. “But you’re delicious, is the point.”

 

That comment is oddly soothing, and Leo relaxes back with a gasp, thrusting his chest towards Rei’s hands. “That—that’s nice,” he whispers, bracing his hands back on the bed, head rolling back. “I’d rather be really tasty than really disgusting, right? You…your hands…”

 

They’re nice, he thinks, but his mind keeps blanking, shorting out when he wants words. Instead of saying that, he just grabs Rei by the neck, yanking him close for a kiss.

 

Rei surrenders into that pull with a low, pleased purr, immediately parting his lips to swipe his tongue over Leo’s lower lip, then into his mouth with a deliberate flick against the roof of his mouth. “Just because it’s a ritual doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself,” he murmurs, slowly pinching, then pulling on one of Leo’s nipples, drawing out that touch as he lets his weight settle between Leo’s thighs, letting Leo feel the heat of his own cock pressed tight against him. “You can tell me what you like, I’ll take care of you.”

 

That probably sounds better than it should. Leo tries not to think about how that makes his skin prickle with anticipation, how it makes his legs feel like there’s nothing easier than parting, letting Rei lie between them. Should it feel so good? If anything, it just feels sort of exciting, this tall, handsome demon pressing him down into a strange mattress, promising to do anything he wants. A grin spreads over his face, and he squeezes his thighs around Rei’s hips, quirking an eyebrow upwards. “This,” he says bluntly. “I like this, you pressing me down and playing with my chest, you can keep doing it.”

 

“Then I will.” Rei’s fingers pinch that same nipple again as he mouths at the arc of Leo’s neck, then ducks his head down, his teeth scraping against its twin. He sucks, tongue pressing down against it as he lets his weight settle into Leo, his cock hard through the thin fabric of his pants. It’s better that Leo can’t see the magic that winds around him—thin, red strings, coiling around his wrists and neck, leaving imprints wherever they touch. “Even with me taking a bite…you’re still awfully ready here, aren’t you?” Rei lowly teases, releasing Leo’s nipple with a little strand of saliva still attached to his lips as he reaches down to Leo’s cock, dragging his palm along the length of it. His fingers briefly skim lower, a pair of them ghosting over Leo’s hole before sliding away again. “My king is surprisingly quite cute.”

 

“Oh, _now_ you remember to treat me as a king.” The words aren’t as grumpy as Leo would like them to be. They’re far more breathy, eager, despite the surprising, unexpected nature of the coupling. Maybe it’s just that his body feels _good_ for once, instead of the stupid fog he’s been drowning in for months. Maybe Rei is just great at this, he admits to himself, and grabs at Rei’s cock, yanking his pants down and curling a hand around his cock. “You’re big,” he accuses.

 

“Guilty,” Rei blithely says, his breath hitching at the touch of Leo’s hand. He kicks his pants aside completely as he rocks forward into Leo’s touch, his cock twitching, a tiny droplet beading at the top and dripping down over Leo’s fingers. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for it, Majesty _,_ ” he breathes, nuzzling up into Leo’s hair, fumbling for the oil again. It drips over his fingers, slick and fragrant, and he drags them over Leo’s hole again, barely dipping inside just yet. “I’ve always been a _bit_ curious…about what sorts of faces you make, when someone’s inside of you.”

 

That statement, more than anything Rei’s doing, makes Leo’s breath hitch, legs splaying wide. He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, imagining Izumi’s cool touch ghosting over his skin, and his heart aches briefly. Then, lovingly, he tucks that image to the side, and opens his eyes. There’ll be time enough to love Izumi _properly_ once he’s fixed inside, after all. For now, he grabs at Rei’s cock, stomach dropping a bit when he realizes he needs two hands to properly grip it. “How much have you been thinking about that kind of thing, huh? M-maybe the Academy needs…needs more work to…nnnh, that’s—“ Rei clearly doesn’t need to be told that his fingers are pressing in the _exact_ right spots, not with how confident his motions are.

 

“The Academy has _plenty_ of work, thank you.” Unceremoniously, Rei slides one long, slick finger in to the second knuckle, thrusting it in deeper when he feels the clench of Leo’s body around it when he curls it back towards himself. “Good boy,” he murmurs, his teeth catching the lobe of Leo’s ear, his tongue running over the stud of an earring dangling there. Out of the corner of his eye, the low-burning red glow of magic lines criss-cross down Leo’s body, messily ensnaring him. “When you spread your legs like that, it’s hard _not_ to want you to squirm more, Majesty…”

 

“H-how sure are you that this is magic?” Leo asks breathlessly on a laugh, hands grabbing at Rei’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. Maybe that’s wrong, maybe it’s better to just let Rei take him and be done with it…but he’s never made love to someone without kissing them, wanting them, and he’s not even sure he knows _how_.

 

The way Rei is touching him inside, though—that feels like magic, right enough. It’s good enough to make him gasp, squeezing down no matter how much he knows it’s time to relax, legs wrapping around Rei’s waist to tug him closer. “F-feels like you’re just having fun, you know?”

 

“Who says magic can’t be fun?” Rei breathes, eagerly letting himself get pulled in by Leo’s legs, his hands, kissing him deeply with his tongue snaking out to coax Leo’s into his mouth so he can suck on it properly. A low, rumbling groan escapes his chest, and he waits a heartbeat, two, for Leo to relax, making it easier to wriggle in a second finger next to the first. Leo’s achingly tight, squeezing around just those fingers like it’s already too much, and Rei takes his time stroking and toying with him from the inside, gently pressing against that little bud of nerves before rubbing against it. “I’m not…good at this, unless the other person is enjoying himself,” he softly admits, his teeth catching Leo’s lower lip to lightly tug before he slithers down, planting kisses down Leo’s stomach before his tongue drags over the head of Leo’s cock. He tucks a handful of his hair back behind his ears before sucking the rest of that flushed, perfect cock into his mouth.

 

“At…sex? Or magic? Well, with you, I guess it doesn’t—hhnnnggg, ahh!”

 

Rei’s mouth is hot and wet, sinfully tight around Leo’s cock, and Leo flops back to the bed, head hitting with a _thump_. He grabs at his own legs, spreading them wider, letting Rei finger him as deep as possible. “L-long fingers, that’s nice, you’re reaching in so far…ah, Rei…y-you can suck harder, I like it…like that…” When Izumi hollows his cheeks out and—no, no, Izumi’s not here.

 

Rei obliges, ducking his head to take Leo all the way to the hilt, until he nuzzles at the flat plane of his stomach, at the wiry hairs at the base of his cock as he sucks hard. His tongue drags from root to tip as his fingers press in deep, twisting and stroking, milking that perfect little spot until he can _feel_ Leo dripping over his tongue. His own cock throbs between his legs— _quit that, not yet,_ he scolds himself, his eyes fluttering.

 

Suddenly, Leo grabs Rei’s hair, yanking his head back, trying not to lose it just at the sight of Rei surfacing from his cock, a thin strand of saliva connecting his cock and Rei’s lips. “D-do we need to come at the same time? For the spell? Because, uh, that’s about to not be…possible…”

 

“How about you let me figure out the magical bits, huh?” Rei growls, flicking out his tongue to snap that little, sticky strand of saliva. He takes that opportunity to draw his hand back, enough that pressing a third finger inside is easier, though gods, Leo is still so tight at that that it takes his breath away. “You…ask far too many questions,” he groans, pulling against Leo’s hand to get his mouth back on his cock. “Shut up and let me suck you off.”

 

Leo doesn’t release Rei’s hair, but he does yank Rei’s head back down, forcing him to take his entire cock in one thrust. It doesn’t look like it’s hard for him, admittedly, but it does make Leo groan, rocking between Rei’s mouth and his fingers, shamelessly grinding down over and over and over and _over_ again once Rei starts stroking that perfect spot. The mouth on his cock feels almost secondary, when those smooth fingers keep strumming him as precisely as any violin.

 

At some point, he’s pretty sure something happens in his body, and he starts to squirm, flushed and overstimulated, spots bursting in his vision as he spills into Rei’s mouth. “G-gods, that’s—right there, right _there_ , don’t stop, don’t—right _theeere_ —“

 

Swallowing noisily, again, then again, Rei doesn’t miss a drop. Ahh, sure, it’s fun to be messy, but in a case like this, being neat and licking up every single drop of seed—necessary, and in this case, arousing, especially when Leo has finally given into just yanking his head down and using his mouth to fuck up into.

 

When he finally pulls back, he’s flushed and his lips are swollen when he runs his tongue over them, heaving a pleased, shaky sigh. “Come here,” Rei breathes, slowly withdrawing his fingers from inside of Leo before slinking back up his body and kissing him hard, shoving his tongue into his mouth as his cock rubs down against him, achingly hard and dripping. “You’re still so tight here,” he murmurs, reaching down to teasingly spread Leo’s hole with two fingers again. “But I bet you’ll open right up when I’m inside of you, won’t you, Leo…”

 

“I like it,” Leo murmurs, arms winding around Rei’s back to pull him close, their bodies flush. “When it’s too much. That’s when it’s the best, hmm? But, ah, slow at first?” The memory of Eichi sliding into him the first time—impossibly large, thick, the head splitting him in two, very little time for patience—are strong, rising at the back of his mouth.

 

“Mm, nice and slow,” Rei sighs in agreement, mouth dragging over the arc of Leo’s throat. His fangs almost break the skin again, but he resists at the last minute, instead reaching for the bottle of oil again. He lets what’s left drip over his cock, his fingers smoothing it down the length of it to make it slick before he guides it to Leo’s hole. The head catches against it, thicker still than his fingers, but with a little push, enough effort behind that slide, the head sinks inside. “If it’s…really _too much_ , just…hah…my hair makes good reins,” he groans, his head thunking down against Leo. His hands slide to Leo’s waist, gripping him tightly with every slow, rolling grind forward. “You feel…so good like this…”

 

Leo lets out a long squeal, then claps a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle such an embarrassing, entirely _lewd_ noise. Rei feels bigger even than Eichi, though maybe that’s because he hasn’t taken anything so large in the years since Eichi’s death, not in his real, physical body. He squirms, trying to calm his racing heartbeat, reminding himself that this _won’t_ kill him, that Rei knows what he’s doing. “So big,” he whispers, eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted as he forces himself to relax. “It’s—nn, it’s so—Reeeei…”

 

“I know, I know, but I’ve got you,” Rei pants out, his hands splaying around to Leo’s lower back, lifting his hips, angling his body to make relaxing and _taking it_ easier. Each little thrust of his hips helps it slide deeper, even when he has to pause when Leo clenches down too tightly for either of them to even _think_ of moving. “Think about how it feels…when it’s all the way inside of you,” he whispers against Leo’s throat, sucking on that soft skin before his head ducks down, tugging on a nipple with his teeth. A droplet of sweat rolls down from his jaw, proof of the effort it takes not to just shove _in,_ to take his own pleasure. “Nice and full…and it’s just there to make you feel good, for you to get off on.”

 

Rei’s right, whether he knows it or not, because all Leo has _ever_ needed in order to come is something hard and thick inside of him. He pants, twisting down on Rei’s cock as it slides deep into him, spreading him wide with each thrust. It takes work not to just twist down and come already, and Leo doesn’t try too hard, letting the pleasure build inside of him, stoking his fires to new heights with every slick, tight motion. “I’m…using it,” he moans, mouth slack, eyes blown in pleasure. “F-feels…so good…nnh, you can—go all the way in—“

 

Whether Leo’s ready or not, Rei takes those words at face value. Giving in feels _incredible_ —shoving in with one, long, full thrust makes Rei’s breath catch in his chest, his fingers digging into Leo’s hips as he holds him still for a moment, savoring that tight, trembling clench around him when he’s buried in to the hilt. “That’s all of it,” he groans, his head thunking down against Leo’s shoulder as he arches over him, rocking in hard, hissing at the slick slide around him when he pulls back even a centimeter. “Fuck…Leo—“ He forces himself to straighten, settling his weight better onto his knees as his hands drag down, curling around Leo’s ass to better guide him into every thrust. Those strands of magic tangle around his fingers, but Rei ignores them as he grinds in, his eyes lidded as he watches the way Leo moves down against him. “So _that’s_ what our king’s face looks like with a dick in him,” he murmurs. “Good to know.”

 

For better or worse, once Rei is in, he’s _all_ in. That knowledge pulses in Leo as much as Rei’s cock does, driving into him as he squirms. Finally, he gives up all care of how he looks, how he sounds, who could hear him, and just enjoys. His mouth falls open and stays that way, his legs tense around Rei’s waist to keep him grinding in as far as possible, back arching so he can let Rei at that good spot, directing him and doing as he’s told, using that huge cock for his own enjoyment with utter, delicious glee. His hands might rake down Rei’s back at some point, but really, when he’s being thrust into so hard he feels like he’ll break and happily, what’s a few scratches?

 

There’s fluid on his belly, and a weird easing of pressure behind his eyes, and then a lot _more_ fluid, more than he usually comes in a night even without it being his second orgasm, and he lets out a wordless shout, back tense as a longbow’s string. Words fail him utterly, and all he can do is twist down, trying to milk out the last wave of pleasure, a mindless creature of need and hunger.

 

At some point, Rei grabs Leo’s face in one hand, dragging him up into long, hot kiss, swallowing those noises he makes, drinking them in as he shoves in deep and hard, refusing to let up even when he feels that slick, sticky mess between them.

 

There’s the scent of blood in the air—from his back, underneath Leo’s nails, and Rei braces a hand next to Leo’s head as he fucks in, taking his time until he can’t anymore as he spills with a ragged groan into Leo’s hair, teeth gritted to keep from biting down. Blood magic and sex magic simply _don’t_ mix, and gods, but there’s so much magic floating about now—cluttering the air in trembling, glowing strands about Leo, twisting around Rei’s hands as he grabs at Leo and holds him against him as he pulses deep, filling him enough that it becomes much, much easier to thrust in again afterwards.

 

“Ah…n-no, don’t you dare,” Rei mutters to himself, snatching at the filaments of magic that try to flutter away entirely. It’s one thing to dampen that bond, essentially sealing it underneath a heavy layer of his own magic, crisscrossing over Leo’s entire being, but letting it escape in any form and _speak_ to its other half…no, no, that won’t do, not now.

 

The magic in his grasp crystalizes by his will, and Rei blows a sweaty strand of hair out of his face, not allowing himself to collapse down no matter how his trembling limbs would _love_ that. “How’s that?” he breathes, trailing his other hand down Leo’s chest. The seal flexes underneath his touch, soft but still incredibly strong, a thorough blanket. “It’s nice and quiet…even to me.”

 

The physical relaxation of the orgasm is nothing to do with how relieved Leo feels when his mind is suddenly, finally _empty_. He takes in a shuddering breath, and feels no trace of Eichi’s presence, none at all.

 

Then, very carefully, he grabs a pillow, stuffing his face into it before the tears start to fall.

 

“Easy, easy…that’s a good boy, just let it out, all right?”

 

Rei slowly, carefully pulls out, grabbing for his own discarded shirt to gingerly wipe up the mess left behind, and does the same for the cooling, sticky fluid on Leo’s stomach. _Then_ he allows himself to flop down, slinging an arm around Leo, dragging him over. “I can’t imagine how it feels to have your bond broken like that,” he quietly says against Leo’s pillow. “Even dampening it…that must be painful. It’s painful for me.” He takes one of Leo’s hands, pressing the bit of crystalized magic into it, a rough, mostly clear crystal riddled with veins of pale blue. “Some of that magic broke off. If you ever need to feel it…you can use this, but it will probably only work if you really, _truly_ need it. It’s not weak to feel that way, but I’d use it sparingly.”

 

“It’s so stupid,” Leo says, voice rough with sobs, curling up against Rei’s chest, hand tightening on the crystal. “He w-was such a bad person. I don’t even…know…how many people he killed, and hurt, and I _know_ he doesn’t care—didn’t care, but…I still…can’t help but…”

 

“You can’t control the person you’re bonded to—and you certainly can’t control who you fall in love with, you know?” Rei winds both arms around Leo, squeezing him as he pulls him firmly into his chest. “It’s difficult to call someone like him a bad person when I don’t think he ever fully understood what made something ‘bad.’ I think…he just did things, mostly, because he truly believed it was right. Sometimes, that blurs the line more than anything else.”

 

Leo squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing at that comfort Rei is offering, even if it’s not really meant for him, even if they aren’t lovers, even if Rei doesn’t really care. But Rei did know Eichi, better than probably anyone alive. “There are so many ways he could have been worse,” he says thickly, entirely aware of how stupid it sounds. “He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t cruel for the sake of it. Sometimes I think…he just didn’t have normal human emotions, you know? Like, he was just acting…according to his nature, you know? No one really…thinks about that…I don’t know, I know this is stupid, he did so many awful things…”

 

“There’s no ‘sometimes’ to it. He wasn’t human, Leo. Not a sliver of him; not like me, not like Izumi. It honestly didn’t occur to him to act in a way that would behoove humans in any way.”

 

Rei tugs Leo’s pillow away and smoothes his hair out of his face. “You don’t have to make excuses for him,” he bluntly says. “And you don’t need to apologize for being bonded to him.”

 

“I feel like…you’re the only person that would understand,” Leo whispers, blinking up at Rei when his face is suddenly exposed. “Or could. Sorry to put this on you. I’m…I’m glad you did it.”

 

“…You’re not the only person that was dragged into his schemes, but somehow, you _were_ the only one that didn’t have a choice. So I sympathize.” He pushes Leo’s bangs back, heaving a sigh. “It’s no trouble. Having a king that’s whole and sound—that’s an important thing. And I suppose I do actually like you as a person.”

 

Leo gives Rei a brief smile, and nods, relaxing just a little. “I like you too, you know? You’re…you’re an interesting person. I think you’re a good one, too, as much as you can be.”

 

“That’s an interesting way to phrase that, but depressingly, I agree.” Rei’s eyes lid. “When you’re feeling up to it, we need to talk. At length, unfortunately, and even more unfortunately, about the West.”

 

Leo exhales deeply, eyes closing. “Thank you. No one wants to talk about it, they all think I’m crazy.”

 

“You aren’t. And your Lord of the West thinks it’s a perfectly viable threat as well—he already approached me, asking for aid.”

 

“He did? Seriously?” Leo beams, flopping onto his back. “Good. Maybe we’ll be able to do something before the world ends, after all.”

 

“Do you remember the last time this nearly happened?” Rei asks, stretching out onto his side. He pulls the mess of his hair back, shoving it over his shoulder before plopping his chin down into his hand. “Your grandfather was in charge. I believe you’d just lost one of your front teeth, that’s how little you were.”

 

Leo scrunches up his face, thinking hard. The tooth—that’s what makes him remember. He’d poked his tongue into that oddly-smooth hole in his gums, feeling the tiny little protrusion ready to come in, as he gazed up at the spire of the Academy—on his own, for the first time. He’d crept into the dumbwaiter channel, climbed up it, and met… “I met you,” he remembers, with a slight frown. “You and—gods, I met him, didn’t I? I’d forgotten.”

 

“Mmhm. When my hair was short, perhaps that’s why you didn’t remember me? But he was the same, he never changed even once. He and I, we were the ones that went directly to deal with the Inglings. But…just like now, it wasn’t just Inglings.” Rei’s expression twists, and he briefly shifts away, distracting himself by looking for his discarded hair tie. “Demons. My own kind. That’s what we’re facing as well.”

 

“The worldshakers,” Leo says quietly. “The ones that could destroy everything. But you did it before, right? So you can do it again, I’m sure. You’re more powerful now than you were back then, right?”

 

“Of all the issues here, that is not the one that comes to mind,” Rei wryly says, sitting up once the little strip of suede cord is procured, and he rakes his hair back from his face to tie it at the nape of his neck. “Back then, I was their prince. Now, I’m their king. Eichi led me there and left the task to me when he decided to collapse, so I’m single-handedly responsible for the demise of a large number of my own.” He spreads his hands. “And I’ll do it again, but understand what you’re asking of me, and perhaps more than that, never question my loyalty to humankind again.”

 

Leo’s head cocks to the side. “It’s personal, for them? I thought they were like mindless monsters, summoned by, I don’t know, humanity’s excess greed or something.”

 

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re just…hungry, they want to breed, they want to _live_ …and unfortunately, the human world is no place for that. Not for demons. They don’t think the same way that we—that you do, they can’t.”

 

Leo reaches down, with the hand that isn’t clutching the crystal, and takes Rei’s cold fingers in his own hand. “Tell me,” he urges. “What I’m asking of you. So I can understand.”

 

Rei’s lips part, and he briefly shuts his eyes. “The equivalent,” he softly says, “would be you shutting the gates on your capital, and setting fire to everyone within those walls. The only difference is that demons—pure demons—see it as a display of power, not a personal slight, not the workings of a king gone mad, like humans would.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Unfortunately…my brother still has enough human in him to be offended. He’ll never admit it, but he loves the Shadowlands far more than any human territory. When this happened years ago, that’s when he stopped speaking to me.”

 

That makes Leo frown, a piece not making any sense. “There’s no way Ritsu wants to let our whole country get overrun by demons,” he says, a little suspicious. “He loves this country, too. He’s fought for it, he’s my friend.”

 

“He thinks we can all inhabit this world together,” Rei wearily says. “And he firmly believes that my killing of all of those demons years ago was a personal slight and betrayal. He’s wrong, by the way. Full-blooded demons absolutely do _not_ belong here.”

 

“Ah…are you saying that Ritsu is an idealist?” Leo asks, a bit amused at the thought. “A demon idealist? Hey, how did you guys wind up here, anyway? Was there some sort of exchange program that I never heard about?”

 

“Ah…no. I ran away.” Rei glances to the side, vaguely embarrassed. “My beloved Ritsu is much better at being a demon than I am, actually, magic aside. I’m a piss poor example and was not interested in ruling.”

 

“Heh.” Leo’s smile turns a little sad, and he burrows into Rei’s chest again, making himself comfortable. “I kinda understand that. At least you had a little brother who could take over if you really didn’t want to rule. Being born to it…creates a different kind of person, I think.”

 

“Mm. In the Shadowlands, it’s not by birth…it’s ‘who is the strongest’, always. Unusually, my mother was the one who ruled before me…so perhaps lineage had something to do with it this time. Cambions are often very powerful.” Rei sighs, looping an arm back around Leo, running his fingers through his hair. “I wish it was as easy as simply letting Ritsu have the title. I can’t just hand it to him; he’d have to defeat me, or he’d be seen as weak, and not the true king. So for now, I’ve appointed him as a surrogate king, and as far as the Shadowlands know, he answers to me. Little do they know, we don’t talk.”

 

“That’s kinda sad. You know, I think he loves you a lot.” Leo shrugs, twining his leg around Rei’s, relaxing into his embrace. “He talks about you all the time. He thinks you’re really wonderful—and you love him a lot too, right? You should talk.”

 

“Have you ever tried cornering an angry half-blooded wizard to speak with them on intimate issues?” Rei says with a little laugh, twirling a few strands of Leo’s hair about his fingers. “He won’t listen to me. He thinks I’ve betrayed him on about fifteen _other_ levels now, thanks to Shu’s mere existence.”

 

“Eh? What does Shu have to do with it? Wait, is he like my dad’s counselors that threw a fit when he tried to engage me to that princess from the Isles, one of those racial purists? No, wait, you said you’re half-human, that doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Heh, no. Ah, well, Ritsu really hates Shu’s nickname, the Demon Queen one.” Things Rei usually doesn’t try to explain to humans—the odd world of demon politics, specifically because: “He was supposed to be that. My Demon Queen.”

 

Leo’s head tilts so far to the side it hurts his neck. “Wa…huh?”

 

“It’s not unusual for demon marriages to be very…close.”

 

“Um, ew. No offense to your culture.”

 

“None taken. Your culture frowns upon men being with other men, so I’ll offer that ‘ew’ right back to you,” Rei sweetly says. “But with that in mind—simply talking with Ritsu isn’t likely. Your bonded fucked him to piss me off, did you know that? It worked, what an ass.”

 

“He does that to most people,” Leo agrees, and whether he means fucking them or pissing them off is anyone’s guess. “Honestly, you two are pretty alike.” He pauses, then adds, “Sorry to offend. Just…I look at my sister, and I’d rather die than ever let _any_ man touch her, but especially not me.”

 

 _Compare me to him again and I’ll let the Inglings come for the capital,_ Rei almost says, but bites his tongue at the last minute. “You should do something about that, by the way,” he says instead, slowly peeling himself away, no matter how he doesn’t _really_ want to move. Unfortunately, work awaits. “It would be lovely to be able to wed my consort by actual, capital standards. And should we ever produce freakish, demon children, no matter our sterile wizard uselessness, they could inherit my lands and his knitting.”

 

“You’re as sterile as it gets,” Leo reminds him. “Even if wizards weren’t, the kind of unions…these…are. I…” He huffs, rubbing the hair back from his face. “I tried. Don’t tell Izumi. I tried to make it a declaration. The counselors were…clear, with me. That I’d lose my entire cabinet and be declared incompetent to serve.”

 

“Hmm. That’s troublesome.” Rei swings his legs off the side of the bed, stretching out with a wince when it pulls on the already-scabbing scratch marks down his back. “Not to be like this, but…you’re going to need to cleanse your cabinet after this, anyway.” He glances back over his shoulder. “Elvan Wynne. Ring a bell? He’s married to one of the ruling family’s daughters here, and is a ringleader in the trade. He might be exiled, but I believe his nephew isn’t. That must grind your gears, every time you sit down to council.”

 

Leo’s blood pumps cold, but it’s a familiar feeling, something of hate rather than dread. “He’s not one of my favorite cabinet members. But I always have to look at a few men that I suspect raped and tried to kill my lover. I have to do things slowly, or they’ll unite against me. I’d say I’m about halfway done with my purge.”

 

“If you’re ever sick of doing it slowly, you should let me know,” Rei simply says. “You’ll find ruling to be a much easier task if everyone that’s _honestly_ a horrific bastard is just dead and gone. Or at least, banished to entirely unpleasant tasks for the rest of their lives.”

 

“Is that how they’d do it among the demons?” Leo asks, honestly curious. “I have to admit, I assumed you’d just eat the ones that disagree with you or something. Is that racist?”

 

“Kind of? I’m not a cannibal, and I probably would try banishing them first if I thought it would work…but if they were really despicable, I _would_ just kill them. If anyone raped _my_ consort, I’d have them strung up by their balls publicly and let birds peck at them until they were dead—but as a sex wizard, rape is as taboo as it gets, so that’s my bias, perhaps.”

 

“It’s that kind of taboo to me too.” Leo’s face falls in a scowl. “I just can’t prove they did it. And Izumi can’t remember all of them.”

 

“Well, I’ll make sure to leave Lord Wynne alive when I corner him,” Rei lightly says, finally forcing himself to rise and find clean clothes. “And perhaps you’ll finally have a very necessary confession. Men will betray a great number of other men if they think they’re about to be the receiver of a demon’s method of torture.”

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure that threatening demon torture on my own cabinet members is not _great_ Kingship. Or totally legal.” Leo beams. “Good thing I didn’t hear about that at all and never will!”

 

“Technically, it’s out of your jurisdiction anyway,” Rei brightly points out, pulling on his pants and turning around to face him. “They threatened one of _my_ wizards recently, if my reports are correct—and they are. And threatening Mika is the same as threatening Shu, as far as I’m concerned, so it’s an even greater offense. Academy law and Capital law are two very different things, after all.”

 

“Ah. Good, then! Honestly, I don’t mind you doing work like that. Especially against people who are buying and selling _people_ , the depravity of that…” Leo shakes his head, then looks over at the window. “Ah, what time is it? Is it time to rescue Keito yet?”

 

“It is.” Rei pauses, eyeing Leo contemplatively. “If you want to come, I won’t stop you, but you’ll need to listen to me if I tell you to go. You’re still king, and heirless; being in the crossfire like this is unwise.”

 

“Ah, nah. I just wanted to keep him from being bought by someone who wouldn’t appreciate his, ah, delicacy? Sensibilities?” Leo shrugs. “Whatever you want to call it. Let me know when you’re moving, I do want to be a part of the big takedown.”

 

“He’s a total weakling, you mean. It’s adorable, I think, but not helpful in this circumstance.” Rei shrugs his shirt back on, and sweeps his cloak back around his shoulders, which shimmers from a deep, black and burgundy velvet to something more befitting of the Sandlands in light linen. “I have some more digging to do before the actual takedown, but I’ll make sure you’re there when it happens. For the night…well, I’m not sure when I’ll be back. You’re welcome to rest here.”

 

“I’ll take that option,” Leo says immediately, and curls up in the bed, entangling himself gleefully in the blankets. “Make sure it isn’t too long. Every single person lost—we’re the rulers, aren’t we? So that’s on us.”

 

“I know. That’s why I’m here, doing my own dirty work.” Rei offers him a smile, then turns away. “The door will lock behind me magically. Don’t let anyone in, Majesty. And get some proper sleep, you deserve it.”


	41. Chapter 41

Keito had thought the smell of the slave quarters would be the worst. It is abhorrent. There’s filth, grime, urine, feces, vomit, blood, and sweat in his nostrils all of the time. It makes Keito retch, and he adds to the smell, much to the protesting of his closest neighbors. The ever-present heat of the Sandlands turns the dank cellar into something putrid, and Keito has to struggle to keep from gagging over and over again.

 

No, the worst part of the slave quarters, to Keito at least, is the sounds.

 

Children, crying. Adults, praying. Women, sobbing. Men, screaming. Keito can’t help but be glad that they’d taken his spectacles, not wanting him to appear “damaged” for auction. If the sounds are this bad, he never wants to see what’s behind them.

 

At some point, someone grabs his arm, nearly yanking it out of the socket. “Get up,” the man snarls at him, and he tries, legs half-asleep as he staggers to his feet. He’s manhandled around, finally shoved out a door into the clutches of someone else, strong and tall and apparently, his new master. Keito chances a look up, but without his glasses, he can make little out of the unfamiliar form, now holding a lead attached to the heavy collar around his neck. Dully, Keito looks down at the ground, and follows when he’s led, walking obediently after his new master. Escape is still on his mind, but in a vague sort of way, a way that means it can only happen after lots of sleep and food, neither of which have been in ready supply over the last several days.

 

“For being so supposedly healthy, you’re so damned sluggish.”

 

A yank on the leash is more than enough to wrench Keito forward, stumbling over himself and out of the quarters. The light of day has yet to disappear, but the sun is still low in the sky, glowing dark red on the edge of twilight. Thus is the desert, after all. “But what I _will_ give you is that you’re so _very_ obedient,” his master murmurs, turning to better examine him in the light and fresher air, grabbing Keito’s chin up in gnarled, tanned fingers. “Capital men tend to be resilient, I suppose. Isn’t that right, boy?”

 

Mao, waiting just outside, pushes up and off a nearby wall. He adjusts his cloak, better hiding the bright flash of his red hair. “Yes, sir,” he answers obediently. “Capital men are very resilient, sir.”

 

Keito’s ears twitch. Like most men with compromised eyes, he relies on auditory clues for most of his information, especially when his glasses are missing. Careful application of will and years of practice keep his face a neutral mask, but his heart thuds. _Isara_.

 

He isn’t stupid. Isara’s motives make perfect sense in the light of day, even when he’d been absolutely sick and furious. He sounds as if he’s working on the side of the slavers. That fits with what he’d expected, that Isara had done it to get on their good side and infiltrate properly.

 

He complies with the hand on his face, keeping his expression stony. If the man wants a response, he’ll figure something out. Isara is obviously playing a long game, and damned if Keito is going to ruin their chances to try and snivel his way out of this situation.

 

“He was so much lovelier during the auction, when he was flustered,” the other man says on a sigh, giving Keito’s cheek a pat before snatching him over by the lead again, and then grabbing him around the waist to unceremoniously throw Keito up and over his shoulder. “Oh well, off we go.”

 

Mao’s lips purse, and he follows close behind, sparing a last, wary glance back at the compound. “Lord Wynne will be back at sundown,” he lowly says. “Are you sure it’s wise to leave now?”

 

“I’ve left my name, _and_ I even purchased you for the evening. He’ll know I’m coming back to return you. Do you have them, by the way?”

 

Mao heaves a sigh, fishing out a familiar pair of glasses from his tunic’s pocket. “Not that they’ll stay on when he’s dangling,” he mutters. “Sir. Ah, Keito, sir. I have your glasses, by the way.”

 

Keito blinks, startled, until it finally, stupidly, sinks in. “Oh, gods,” he groans, stuffing his face in the man’s back. “It’s you, isn’t it? You absolute fucking bastard.”

 

“Aww, now he’s being so sweet with me. Look, he’s snuggling.”

 

“…Master, he is most certainly not.”

 

Keito’s master—unfortunately, Rei, the Demon King, Emperor of the Academy—promptly flips Keito back over into a princess carry instead of holding him like a sack of potatoes. “Evening,” he sweetly says, pulling down his hood. The illusion shimmers away in an instant, and Rei grins down at him, fangs flashing, all pale skin and wild hair. “You look like shit. Ahh, this is nostalgic, right?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Keito says with a groan. “You’re the reason I smell like this, so you can put up with it. Ugh, put me down, I can walk. And you, Isara, start running.”

 

“No, I like carrying you. You’re as light as a feather.”

 

Mao heaves a sigh. “Sir, I can explain.”

 

“No need, I’ll do it.” Rei smiles down at Keito. “He acted under my orders. That’s all you need to know to not be angry with him, right?”

 

“I already worked out what happened for myself,” Keito snaps, glowering up at Rei. “But the brat could have _warned_ me instead of letting me be taken during such an intimate moment!”

 

“With all due respect, sir, that sort of defeats the purpose of being undercover.”

 

Rei shifts Keito into one arm, reaching out a hand, and Mao sets the glasses into it. “Here, my lovely slave,” Rei hums, dangling them right above Keito’s face and obviously still enjoying himself. “A present for you, if you ask nicely.”

 

Keito’s glare deepens to thunderous proportions, and he snatches at the frames, scowling more when the fuzziness of his vision makes that a fool’s errand. “Give me my glasses, and take this damned collar off,” he grinds out through gritted teeth. “Mao, you do the begging for me, you’re better at it.”

 

Mao opens his mouth, then shuts it when Rei glances back at him, eyebrows raised. “Perhaps not,” Rei says. “I like the collared look on you. Very alluring. The smell is starting to get to me, though, and my inn I _believe_ has a nice bathing pool. Shall we? The collar has to stay on, though.”

 

“This had better be a magic thing,” Keito snarls. “Rei, you know I’m going to make you pay for all of this, right?”

 

“In what way? I saved your life, I’m doing a good thing.”

 

“My life was only in danger because of your orders,” Keito snaps. “You just admitted that. And you can be a little more blithe about it when you have to spend a week in some crying child’s urine and vomit, waiting for death or worse!”

 

“Considering the entire scheme was to help those children and to put an end to this for good, I think you could have put up with that for at least another week. Mao, the door.”

 

Mao sweeps forward, tugging open the back door to the inn in question, and Rei steps inside. He sets Keito onto his feet, holding out his glasses, though he doesn’t let go of the leash. “If we don’t keep up this image, I can’t protect you,” Rei lowly says. “If you’d rather that, well. We can discuss it. But…technically, you should be following my orders even without a collar on, so how much discussion should we really be having?”

 

Keito swallows hard, feeling his swollen, dry throat burn. He looks down, and grabs the glasses, setting them on his face. In a hoarse whisper, he says, “Just…let me get clean. Please. I’ll play whatever part you want, but…like this…”

 

“Master, that’s enough,” Mao quietly says.

 

“Now you’re really making me out to be a slaver,” Rei mutters, sighing as he grabs Keito by the hand instead of the leash. “A bath, and a proper meal, yes? Come along, let me take care of you.”

 

That’s a sigh of relief, and Keito nods, following as numbly as he had before Rei had revealed himself. Now that he knows there’s a possibility of getting clean, his skin crawls aggressively, as if trying to get away from the rest of his body. The bile rises in the back of his throat. “Distract me, please,” he says quietly. “Tell me you’ve found something good. Tell me it was worth it.”

 

“Because you let yourself get captured, I know everything I need to know to destroy them.”

 

Rei leads him swiftly to the bathing pool in question, and pulls Keito beyond the gated entryway. Mao immediately positions himself there, locking it and leaning back against it, and Rei swiftly helps Keito out of his filthy clothes, his hands gentle in their unfastening. “No one touched you, did they? Beyond the usual roughing up you see in those kinds of places.”

 

Keito shakes his head, in one sharp motion. “I’m a skinny old man, they found other playmates,” he mutters. A couple of them had thought it was funny to beat the Capital Man a little, but compared to what the pretty ones endured, it doesn’t feel worth mentioning.

 

“Mm. I’m glad for once that they had piss poor taste.”

 

Rei pauses, glancing back towards the gate, and with Mao’s nod that it’s all clear still, he lifts his hands to unbuckle the collar on Keito’s neck. “For now. I need you to go back with me later, when I meet with the ringleaders, if you can. If not…well, I’ll figure something out. Here, get in the water and soak.”

 

“I’ll be fine.” He will, even if the idea of putting the heavy circle of leather and metal makes his knees wobble. He gets into the bath, and lets out a long shuddering sigh, immediately closing his eyes and sinking down into the water. “Just for the moment,” he mumbles, eyes crossing a little, “you’re both completely forgiven for everything.”

 

“Yes, yes, good boy,” Rei hums, waving Mao over with a crook of a finger as he drops down to sit next to the pool, shoes toed off to dunk his feet in. “All clear still?”

 

“All clear, Master.” Mao spares a last glance, just to make sure, and makes his way over, heaving a sigh. “Sorry you had to go through that, sir,” he says, pulling over one of the caddies of soap and clean towels. “If I had been able to warn you, I would have, but at the time…ah, tilt your head back and wet your hair, I’ll wash it.”

 

Keito tilts his head back, letting the water rinse over his hair, his skin, with almost orgasmic relief. “It’s no worse what many of our citizens are going through,” he says quietly. “But that didn’t make it…enjoyable. As long as it’s worth it, the ends justify the means.”

 

“Now I’m an important client thanks to you,” Rei says, leaning back onto his hands, kicking his feet slowly. “With lots of money, obviously. Ah, Leo helped, unwittingly. He tried to buy you as well, the troublesome brat.”

 

Mao snorts out a laugh as his fingers knead along Keito’s scalp, working soap through his hair, and Rei scowls. “Don’t laugh. It was highly inconvenient.”

 

“Sorry he made it difficult to purchase me back after selling me into slavery,” Keito says dryly, tipping his head back into Mao’s hands, trying not to enjoy it too much, and utterly failing. It’s the first kind touch he’s felt in over a week, and it’s enough to make his muscles sag in relief. “I’m sure the budget will accommodate. Take it out of the king’s purse, if it’s his fault.”

 

“Mm, unimportant, I’m just whining.” Rei’s eyes lid and he leans forward, the tail of his hair brushing against Keito’s bare shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he quietly says. “Thank you for humoring all of this.”

 

“Not that you gave him much of a choice,” Mao mutters, thoroughly working the soap through to make sure all of the dirt and grime is entirely gone.

 

“Snippy, are we? The longer he spends around you, Keito, the more obstinate he becomes, I hope you know that.”

 

“Good. It’s good for him to talk back to you. More people should.” Keito tries not to twitch too much when Mao’s fingers feel so incredibly good, stripping the filth from his hair and skin, leaving him feeling like a new person. “And he’s right, it feels hollow to be thanked for something like this.”

 

Rei sighs, leaning back. “I can’t win with you, can I? Thanking you is hollow and pointless. If I didn’t thank you, you’d be on my case for being ungrateful. Actually, you’re both quite suited for one another in that sense.”

 

“The longer he’s without His Excellency Shu, the crankier he gets,” Mao whispers into Keito’s ear as he leans down.

 

“I can hear you. Don’t take the moral high ground here, you brat. You _enjoy_ this place.”

 

“I should think he’s more entitled to rebuking than you are, Rei,” Keito says flatly. “You’re the one that ordered him down here, don’t tell him off for making the best of it.”

 

“You two are a force of nature when you’re together, aren’t you?” Rei says, his eyes lidding as he looks down at Keito. “He enjoys the game of this, you know; all good Servants do. And for him, it’s even better when you’re involved, Keito, because—“

 

“Enough, enough,” Mao hastily says, hurriedly washing out Keito’s hair. “Are you sure you aren’t hurting anywhere else, sir? Ahh, I’m not sure it’s wise for you to keep being wrapped up in this…”

 

“I’m far older than you are,” Keito says, though there’s little rancor in it. “I’m not in need of your protection. I made my decision to help take these bastards down, and that’s what I’m going to do, as long as I’m useful, until the end.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Rei brightly says, and fully clothed, the slides down into the pool next to Keito, immediately plastering himself up against his side. “But I’m far older than you, so you’re under _my_ protection—or you should be,” he murmurs. “If I decide to burn every single building to the ground and you’re caught up in the middle of it, I’d like for you to be safe.”

 

Keito rolls his eyes, then quirks the corner of his mouth. “You’re so immature,” he scolds, then grabs Mao by the collar the second his weight shifts, yanking him into the bath on his other side. “If we’re going to make it a communal bath, we might as well do the thing properly, no?”

 

Mao yelps, coming up looking far more like a drenched rat than the artfully wet Demon King on Keito’s other side, and he huffs, unpinning his hair to stop it from flopping into his face. “That was really unnecessary, sir,” he grumbles, shedding his now thoroughly soaked cloak.

 

“ _I’m_ immature? You’re just used to children that are far too serious for their age,” Rei sighs, looping his arms around Keito’s waist as he nuzzles his face directly into his neck, acting far more like an affectionate cat than any proper Emperor. “So that’s a ‘yes, I’ll accept whatever protection spell you want to put on me, O Great Emperor that I serve without question’?”

 

“I’m fully capable of putting protection spells on myself,” Keito grumbles, though the warm bodies around him and the sweet clean water go a long way to soothing his nerves. “But all right, O Great Emperor that I serve after many, many questions, I’ll submit to your undoubtedly itchy protection spell. And so does Mao.”

 

“Mao already has one. _He’s_ a good boy that listens to what I tell him to do.”

 

Mao sighs loudly, still in the process of stripping, which is much harder when everything’s soaking wet, go figure. “It’s not itchy,” he says. “Not if it’s done the way he likes to do it.”

 

“So let me do it the way I like to do it,” Rei says, tilting his head to let his teeth catch the lobe of Keito’s ear. “I had to use a fair amount of stored up power to protect our king earlier,” he sighs. “You should help me top up.”

 

Keito sighs, then nods, fluttering a hand. “All right, if you need to. Mao, sorry to drag you into the bath, looks like our fancy great Emperor here needs a bit of succor. Heh, shades of the day you brought him to me, Rei.”

 

“Except he’s not so young that he has to be left out this time, hmm?”

 

Mao blinks at that, his shirt landing in a wet heap next to the bath seconds before Rei grabs him by the arm, pulling him over to solidly sandwich him, his back to Keito’s chest, Rei trapping them both with his arms planted to either side of Keito’s head. The startled noise that leaves Mao’s throat is more a squawk than anything, and Rei’s smile glitters. “Unless that’s not to your taste, Keito.”

 

Keito sucks in a breath, arms going almost automatically around Mao’s waist, holding him close. “Rei, you always run over everyone’s feelings, whether they’re asking you to or not.”

 

Mao feels good against him, warm and supple and reminding him of all the ways he _hasn’t_ had him yet, and even after the week he’s had, Keito feels his body starting to respond. His hands splay out on Mao’s belly, and he murmurs in his ear, nosing aside the red hairs, “Unless he wants to stay, of course. See, you’re a bad influence on me, too.”

 

“What can I say, I’m pushy,” Rei murmurs, his hands splaying over Mao’s thighs to spread them as he leans forward, his tongue dragging along the curve of Mao’s ear. “This is a _fun_ way to make sure I’m prepared, after all, and much more thorough.”

 

Mao’s mouth opens to protest, then he clamps a hand over it firmly when an incriminating noise wants to escape instead. _Fuck you_ , he darkly thinks, glowering up at Rei, who just smiles at him, and pinches the inside of one of his thighs. Keito’s breath against his neck, the long, lean lines of his body behind him—certainly, much of the past couple of weeks was staged, but his (unfortunate) attraction to his mentor…

 

“I…I don’t mind,” he murmurs, his voice still muffled behind his hand as his face heats up. _Don’t hate me for this, Ritsu, please._

 

Keito’s hands, starting to slide up Mao’s chest, suddenly stop, and his brow furrows. “Mao,” he says quietly, some of the anxiety about the way he feels about the younger man bleeding in. “You should go. This isn’t a duty of yours, I wasn’t trying to…”

 

Hesitation flickers across Mao’s face, and Rei rolls his eyes, grabbing him swiftly by the shoulder and flipping him around. “No,” he flatly says. “Don’t even try. I’d rather you two go at it and I skip out on a meal if it means you get this out of your system.”

 

Mao’s face flushes hotter as he finds himself face-to-face with Keito, naked, and unfortunately, already half-hard. “I—um—sir, I d-don’t think of this as a duty? But if you want me to go, I’ll…”

 

Keito blinks behind his glasses, looking down over Mao’s body, a powerful longing crossing his own expression before he wills it away. He clears his throat, and says quietly, “I want you to stay. If you really want to stay.”

 

“I…” Mao swallows nervously. He shifts carefully, his hands curling against Keito’s shoulders. “I want to.” He bites his lip, glancing down. “Sorry if that makes it really weird between us now,” he murmurs. “But I just…”

 

“You’ve liked him for years, don’t be shy about it,” Rei sighs, his own clothes hitting the side of the pool with a wet _smack._ He slithers his way against Keito’s side, his breath hot against the side of his neck. “We have to take care of that boy, Keito. He’s a good one.”

 

“He’s not a boy.” Keito’s voice is firm, fond, and he reaches up to touch Mao’s face, leaving it damp on one cheek. “He’s a grown adult.”

 

Surprisingly, he finds himself feeling rather firm about this. His hands drop down to Mao’s hips, tugging him forward to straddle Keito’s legs. “And I…have every intention of taking care of him.”

 

Mao breath hiccups, his hands sliding to grip the edge of the pool as he scoots forward, deeper into Keito’s lap. “…Good,” he settles upon, then laughs, his head tipping forward to knock against Keito’s shoulder. “The whole time I’ve been down here, you haven’t gotten me off even _once_.”

 

“Oh, that’s in poor taste,” Rei teases, letting his fingers tiptoe down Mao’s back, making him arch forward beneath the touch. “Keito, be sweet to this poor thing. Ah, why don’t you let me have a little taste first, though.” His teeth gently nip into the side of Keito’s throat. “Your pulse is going so _fast_ already…”

 

“That’s just how my pulse is,” Keito groans, letting his head tilt to the side, baring his throat for Rei’s mouth. It’s hardly the first time Rei has nibbled on him, and each time leaves him achingly hard, twitching, ready to do anything for release. He reaches down, sliding a hand down Mao’s abdomen, curling his fingers around the base of Mao’s cock. “W-we were always busy before,” he mutters. “And last time we got interrupted through _no_ fault of my own…”

 

Mao arches with a gasp, his own breath a hot, heavy wash against Keito’s skin as he rocks forward into that first touch like a man starved. Embarrassing, maybe, that he’s already so hard and so eager, but no one’s picking on him for that, and Keito’s hands are so _nice_. “Doesn’t matter,” he rasps. “You’re…ah…m-making it up to me now…”

 

Rei sucks on the side of Keito’s neck, a pleased little rumble escaping from his chest. His fingers drag down Mao’s spine, grabbing a neat handful of his ass and squeezing, kneading as his fangs nip lightly before sinking in for a _proper_ bite. The blood of an Enhanced is always… _special_ , bright and fragrant and incredibly alive against his tongue, and he drinks greedily, swallowing without missing a drop. He breaks away, panting, his eyes dilated, and he grabs Keito’s face in his hand, dragging him over into a deep kiss.

 

Tasting his own blood on Rei’s lips is always an odd sensation, but Keito’s used to it by now, though it’s been years. There are too many places he wants to touch, but his hands are eager and sure as he slides one of them over Mao’s cock—it’s lovely, it’s _lovely_ , he wants to taste every part of it—and the other down Rei’s chest, sliding over a nipple with the pad of a thumb. Rei’s always loved being played with like that. “This…feels like something meant for someone else,” he whispers without meaning to, flushing when he realizes how pathetic that sounds. “I just mean—you two are so…”

 

“You’ve obviously never looked in a mirror, sir,” Mao groans, his nails scoring against Keito’s shoulders. His cock twitches, throbbing in Keito’s grasp, and he’s grateful they’re in _water_ , else he’d already be making everything entirely too sticky. “You…ahh….fuck…”

 

“Listen to the mouth on him,” Rei breathes, his own breath hitching at Keito’s touch. His teeth nip at Keito’s lower lip, pulling on it before he releases it, licking at his own to taste Keito lingering on his tongue. “You used to scold _me_ for that. Mmn, why don’t I get him nice and ready for you, Keito?” His fingers curl in, gently dragging over Mao’s hole.

 

Mao gasps, so overstimulated, so wound-up, that even that touch makes his body seize and twitch. His head tips back, lips parted and trembling, damp hair sticking to his flushed cheeks, and Rei laughs. “Guess that’s a ‘yes’ from him. Look how much he wants you, Keito.”

 

“You’ve done this with him before,” Keito accuses, but the words come out breathless, tense, and eager. Rei’s the one that was his lover for years, off and on, but Mao is the one his eyes linger on now, every flex of his lean muscles, every curve of his familiar, beloved face.

 

Both of his hands move to caress Mao now, pulling him close for a filthy hot kiss, tongue delving into the depths of Mao’s mouth. His fingers dip down, teasing Mao’s hips, his nipples, his belly, thighs, before moving back to his cock—then one trails back, one finger brushing against Rei’s where they delve inside. “Feels,” he murmurs, eyes flicking back up to Mao’s face, “like there’s more room here for me.”

 

Mao pants, open-mouthed and trembling, as he rocks back against Rei’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut as he arches down to feel that press inside of him all the more thoroughly. Loathe as he is to admit it, Rei’s fingers are _nice_ , long and skilled and stroking him inside so perfectly that it makes his limbs feel like they’re turning to goo. “Please,” he finally lets himself say, swallowing so hard that his throat bobs visibly. “S..sir…ahh…Keito, I need…”

 

Keito doesn’t usually follow Rei’s playbook, but sometimes, he has nice ideas. He takes one of them now, tilting his head to fasten his lips to Mao’s neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin there, his own cock so hard that even the gentle splashing of the water is enough to drive him mad. His finger circles, then delves inside, feeling the hot, tight squeeze of him against his finger and Rei’s. “For someone who’s been working where you have,” he murmurs, against the skin of Mao’s neck, “you certainly do feel tight down here.”

 

Mao whines low in his throat, slumping forward into Keito’s chest. He bites his lip, muffling another noise that tries to escape when those fingers sink in deep, stretching and filling him in a way that makes his knees go weak. “I…d…didn’t…really do what you’re thinking, all that much,” he pants out, his hands kneading into Keito’s shoulders. “Ah, gods, fuck, that’s a _lot_ …”

 

“Is it? Or are you just _awfully_ wound up?” Rei murmurs, his own fingers sinking in deeper, fucking up into Mao slowly, thoroughly. “You’ve had me in you before…”

 

“Just ooonce,” Mao groans, trembling as his back arches in a sharp, taut bow. His head rolls to the side, encouraging Keito’s mouth on his neck, every single graze of teeth and suck against his skin making his cock jump and twitch where it presses into Keito’s stomach. “’s different….ah..f-fuck, fuck…”

 

“Rei.” Keito bites again, feeling something hot and wild uncurl within him, hands digging into Mao’s flesh with every urgent grab. “Let me have him first.” It doesn’t sound like his own voice that comes out, the words far too rough and ragged for his own educated tones. “I need him.”

 

“By all means,” Rei softly says, his own eyes dilated, his own cheeks flushed. His fingers slowly slide out, much to Mao’s disapproval, if one is to judge by the little hitching whine that escapes him. “I’d offer to help, but…mm, it looks like you want to eat him alive.”

 

Mao shivers hard, licking at his lips as he looks down at Keito. “I can be eaten,” he says, voice a breathy rasp.

 

That’s as much invitation as Keito needs, as highly-strung as he is. He kisses those licked lips, then grabs Mao by the hips, guiding him into position for something he hasn’t done in too many years to name. Then, he looks Mao in the eyes, guiding him down until the head of his cock catches on that tight hole. His breath hitches, and he whispers, “I’ve wanted to do this for years,” before he twitches his hips up, pressing those first unbearably sweet centimeters into Mao’s body, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

 

That first, aching press of Keito’s cock inside of him takes Mao’s breath away. In spite of Rei and Keito’s teasing, it isn’t as if he does this often at _all_ —even posing as a whore in the Sandlands didn’t mean this was common place, with most men preferring other activities that require far much less work on their part. So this—this is _so_ much more, and so much better, to the point his vision tries to white out at the edges, that sweet, tense slide combined with Rei’s mouth on his neck, Keito’s hands on his hips, the hot steam of the water—

 

“Gods,” he whispers, trembling as he clings to Keito’s neck, panting into his hair as his back arches and he wriggles down, mouth parted as he sinks down. Keito’s cock buried inside of him makes him tremble, and he feels his thighs tensing, the muscles of his abdomen hollowing out when he clenches down. “Please…fuck me, I…”

 

“Can’t help it.”

 

Keito’s mouth is intent on Mao’s neck, biting and sucking, leaving mark after mark, finally letting his guard down, letting his control drop. His hips rock up—not hard, gods, he doesn’t want to _hurt_ Mao now after they’re finally here—to meet Mao’s, hands rocking him down, until flesh meets flesh in a flurry of splashing bathwater.

 

Keito finally comes up for air, eyes blurring with every slick, delicious slide into that supple frame, and his eyes meet Rei’s over Mao’s shoulder. “Isn’t he beautiful?” he whispers, feeling his spectacles slip down his nose.

 

“Gorgeous,” Rei murmurs, pushing Mao’s hair out of the way for his own mouth to suck on the back of his neck, nipping into that faintly tanned skin to draw a droplet of blood to the surface. He feels the shiver that twitches through Mao just from that, and his hands slide around to Mao’s chest, pinching, pulling on his nipples. “Good, isn’t it? Being able to really enjoy yourself?”

 

Mao nods mindlessly, trembling as his legs splay across Keito’s lap, as if spreading his thighs wider will make it easier to be so _full_. “D…don’t bite me…n-not yet, I don’t wanna come, not yet,” he groans, rocking down onto Keito’s cock with slow, but intent grinds of his hips. “It feels…so fucking good, god, _Keito_ …”

 

If there’s a man that could resist a plea like that, Keito doesn’t know him, and certainly isn’t him. He reaches down, gripping Mao’s cock firmly, stroking him with urgent strokes as he rocks his hips up, seizing him in another kiss that’s as much about teeth as it is lips and tongues. “You’re so good,” he groans, rocking faster, harder, filling Mao with every thrust. “Just—you like—feeling it, inside you, right? You’re so—nnh—Mao—“

 

Mao tries to make words come. It doesn’t work, not when Keito’s hand wraps around his cock, not when he keeps fucking up into him like _nothing_ has ever felt better. He just whimpers, clinging to Keito’s shoulders as he lends himself to each thrust, each stroke, arching his back and writhing down, panting into Keito’s mouth when he’s kissed, dangling right on the edge—

 

Until Rei, that bastard, sinks his teeth into his neck, and Mao is lost entirely.

 

He bucks forward, a breathy whine escaping him as he spills, sticky and slick over Keito’s hand, over his stomach, every single pulse making him clench and tremble anew around Keito’s cock. He can hear the pounding of his own blood through his veins, the lightheaded feeling that Rei feeding on him has always brought so much _more_ like this, and he sags, overwhelmed and overstimulated, voice breaking on little whimpers with every throb of his pulse.

 

Keito had thought he was just hitting his stride, but the sudden squeeze of Mao down around him in urgent spasms drives him suddenly to the edge, and he spills before he knows it, flooding Mao’s body in hot, eager pulses. “Shit,” he groans, burying his face in Mao’s neck, both hands holding him close. “Sorry, I was—I was going to make that last longer, you’re just too much for me—“

 

“S-sorry…sorry…that…f-feels really good…” Mao breathes, his eyes fluttering as he sags forward, burying his face into Keito’s shoulder, not entirely willing to let anyone see how pleased he looks about being so _full_. Keito coming inside of him makes his toes curl, and he shudders anew when Rei releases his neck, his tongue dragging over the twin fang marks left behind.

 

“That excuse only works when I know how fast you used to come in me, too, Keito,” Rei purrs, licking his lips, a little glazed and sated just from being able to _feed_ so much. “Nnn, maybe I should bite you again, get you started again…”

 

Keito’s hands drag up and down Mao’s back, mouth pressing kiss after kiss to his neck and shoulders. “If you do,” he says quietly, looking up into Mao’s eyes, searching for regret or disgust and finding none, “I’ll just have him again. I’ve wanted this for…gods. So long.”

 

Mao manages to meet his eyes for a moment before color raises sharply to his cheeks again, and he huffs out a breath, stuffing his face down into Keito’s shoulder. “You should’ve done something about it, then,” comes Mao’s voice, muffled. “Fuck you, sir.”

 

“Tempting, but I need him useful later,” Rei quietly says, running a hand up Mao’s back before he slowly pulls away, dragging himself up and out of the pool. “At least there’s no shortage of lovely things about, be right back~…”

 

“Do you ever remember that he just…places _no_ value on this kind of thing?” Mao groans, slumping fully into Keito’s chest.

 

“Only when he forces me to remember.”

 

Keito keeps stroking up and down Mao’s back, splashing the still-warm water up and down it, letting it carry away the sweat. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” he says softly. “After how we started. And what happened…before.”

 

“We’ve been over this,” Mao mutters, shifting carefully in Keito’s lap to let his cock slip free. “Ahh, sorry, stings, how do people do this all the time?” He flops back down again, staring up at Keito through the wet bangs that drip into his face. “I don’t hate you. I couldn’t hate you.”

 

“I want you, though.” Keito’s smile is a little sad, and he reaches up, brushing the bangs out of Mao’s face. “And you’ve got someone else. That’s what I didn’t want you to…hate.”

 

Mao blinks slowly up at him. “Ritsu’s not much better than his brother, you know,” he mildly says. “He does whoever he wants. I think it’s a fair trade if I get to do the same, and if he disagrees—well—too bad. I’m…I’m allowed to have someone else, too.” His expression twists somewhat wry. “He’d keep the Sena heir in the Shadowlands with him, if he thought he could get away with it. Then he’d probably never come back out.”

 

“Well…” Keito shrugs, a little uncomfortable, but he’d brought this on himself by bringing it up. “Fine, then. I do want you as a lover. For as long as you want.”

 

“Then…that’s that, right?” Mao slowly smiles, poking Keito’s cheek. “Stop looking like you swallowed something unpleasant, sir.”

 

That startles a little smile out of Keito, and he ducks his head. “I’m used to things going wrong for me in love. So don’t feel bad if next week you get a notice that you have to move to the other side of the world or something, deep down I’m expecting it.”

 

“Next week, I’ll be where the Emperor of the Academy wills it, and so will you,” Mao points out, folding his arms across Keito’s chest and resting his head upon them. “So at least we can blame any bad luck on that, and you know who to yell at.”

 

“I’m good at yelling at Rei,” Keito says dryly. “It’s fine. I just wanted you to know, that should anything happen…well. Don’t worry about me.”

 

He wraps his arms around Mao, feeling a curious warmth in his chest. “Just this…is more than I expected.”

 

“But it’s good, I think,” Mao softly says, relaxing into Keito’s chest as he watches the rising steam. “Don’t let him drag you back into the slaver’s den. I’ll make an argument for it, and I’ll win, probably—but I know what his plans are, and I don’t think you need to be there. I think he just likes the way you look on a leash.”

 

Keito is silent for a long moment, thinking. Then, finally, he asks, “Will it help, if I’m there? Could I possibly save even one person? I…I don’t get to do good things directly very often, in my line of work. It sounds like a nice change.”

 

“Maybe? But if you want to save people…then I’m going to insist you don’t go with Rei, and you meet up with Morisawa and Akehoshi. Rei already has them clearing out some of the trading hubs further away from here. This auction house, maybe even the palace, because the royal family is funding all of this…he’s going to burn it to the ground, every record, every person involved.”

 

Keito reaches up, rubbing the bridge of his nose where he can feel a headache budding. “Those two never make anything easy. You’re probably right, if they’re around…someone will have to pick up the pieces.”

 

“They make me very, very tired,” Mao wearily agrees. “I’d rather deal with Rei. And let me tell you, sir, coming from me, that means _a lot_.”

 

“Really? I thought you were close with them. I heard something about you going undercover with Akehoshi once. Apparently you made quite the team.”

 

“Just because I appreciate him as a friend and comrade doesn’t mean he doesn’t exhaust me. Also, he was thoroughly tempered by another one of Rei’s spies…put him around Morisawa, though, and they just…” Mao flutters a hand. “Explode.”

 

“That sounds exactly like both of them,” Keito says with a sigh. “Ugh. Just the idea of them being in town makes me anxious. This is going down tonight?”

 

“If all goes according to Rei’s plans,” Mao confirms. “And he very rarely is wrong. The only thing that might change it is if he can’t guarantee Shu and Mika’s safety. If that happens, it’s instant abort.”

 

Keito rolls his eyes. “Of course it is. Because nothing matters more than the precious Demon Queen, eh? Not even the lives of hundreds of innocents, not even if Shu himself would prefer to go through.”

 

“To be _fair_ ,” Mao hedges, “if Shu dies, Rei dies. So if you look at it like that, it’s a matter of self-preservation—though that’s not very Rei-like, so yes, it’s definitely all about Shu.”

 

“Pathetic,” Keito says flatly. “Understandable, though. But that doesn’t make it less sad, honestly. Shouldn’t our leaders be better than we are?”

 

Mao’s eyebrows raise. “I’m suggesting you take a role away from this main conflict even though I think we would work very well together and perhaps be able to keep Rei in check more efficiently because I’d like for you to be safer,” he says. “So…I guess I relate. Ah, but maybe that’s just me.”

 

Keito hesitates, then shrugs. “Given some of the things I’ve done in service to people I loved, I suppose I shouldn’t talk, either. Moral judgment isn’t really something I can pull off, I think.” He pauses, then adds, more quietly, “Especially since all I want to do is shut you safely away from all of this, even knowing how skilled and well-situated you are.”

 

“Mm, but I’m stubborn,” Mao cheerfully says. “And you can’t pull me away from this. Rei won’t let you, and that’s okay. Ah…but…that aside, I really do want to see it through. I firmly agree with Rei in this one—these slavers, they should die.”

 

“We’re all in agreement.” For a moment, Keito doesn’t hear the gentle splashes of the bathtub, but the heavy clank of irons, and screaming. “Even five minutes down there, and I’d have agreed.”

 

“I did _not_ like that plan, by the way,” Mao mutters. “And I argued against it. Vehemently. I tried to convince Rei it would be just as good if I was sold, but—annoyingly enough, he’s right. I don’t think I would’ve brought as much, because I’m not capital-born, and it’s obvious.”

 

“Rubbish,” Keito says flatly. “You’re far more beautiful, I’d have paid a vastly higher sum for you. I mean, the only people who actually bid on me were Rei and Leo, so wouldn’t that have been the same if it were you?”

 

“The bidding started out higher on you than it would have on me, and that immediately excluded a lot of small-time buyers,” Mao points out. “ _Just_ because you’re from the capital. And I dunno, I think you’re really handsome, sir.”

 

“And yet I’m the one who wears spectacles,” Keito says dryly. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, of course. I just don’t see what me being from the Capital has to do with it, honestly.”

 

“…They _hate_ anyone from the capital, or associated with the crown right now,” Mao softly says. “They want scapegoats and punching bags. And if someone legitimately from the Sandlands had purchased you…I don’t want to think about what would have happened to you.”

 

“Well, don’t worry about it. If it’d happened, I know who to yell at, eh?” Keito’s smile is crooked. “No matter what goes wrong, or right, just blame Rei.”

 

“That’s what I always try to do.” Mao’s head thunks back down into Keito’s chest. “Until he comes back, let’s just stay like this, okay? I’m tired and you’re warm.”

 

Keito’s chest feels warm again, and he doubts it has much to do with the heat of the bathwater. “It’ll get colder, you know. Water does that. Unless I do something like this, that is.”

 

He sketches a rune in the air, which fizzles in the air, then settles into the water, immediately warming it in a radiating circle.

 

“Perks of being with older, experienced men that are experienced in magic, too,” Mao murmurs happily. “Thanks for spoiling me.”

 

Keito presses a fond kiss to Mao’s hair, letting his eyes drift closed. “It’s the least an old man can do.”


	42. Chapter 42

Nazuna of the Nito household, the reigning Master of Coin, absolutely hates parties, especially when they’re for him.

 

Kuro was supposed to be here. It would have been better, or at least, more tolerable, if he had been—but the man is gone, off with his family, Nazuna can only assume. Maybe he’s sulking about his recent demotion, but Nazuna doubts that, especially when he has his own offer waiting on the table.

 

Now if only Kuro was here to _take it_.

 

Being the second most eligible bachelor in the entire Capital is troublesome. Constant offers of marriages, women _literally_ being tossed at him—it makes Nazuna quick to retreat, huddled up moodily around a bottle of fine wine. The party is absolutely a means to an end, or so the fathers of those daughters think, but Nazuna, at least, is capable of vending them off with a few surly glances and snippy words. At the end of the day, at least he can say it’s because they aren’t rich enough to strike his fancy.

 

“Hey, Nazunyan.”

 

Sir Izumi, Lord of the Sena house, newly appointed Captain of the Kingsguard, and as most of the Capital likes to call him more frequently now, the Prince in the North, is _definitely_ not rich enough to strike his fancy, but he is, unfortunately, good company, and an even more eligible bachelor than he. “There’s strength in numbers,” Izumi only half-jokes as he drops down next to him, a glass of wine in hand. “If we both look unpleasant, the girls will leave us alone.”

 

“Coming from you, I’m not sure I can believe it.”

 

“I’ve turned over a new leaf, remember? Girls are a big ‘no’ for me.”

 

Nazuna doesn’t believe it, not with the wistful way Izumi’s eyes scan the crowd, nor does he believe it when girls look back at Izumi hungrily (they don’t look at _him_ like that, they look at his _purse_ like that). He starts to believe it, however, about an hour later, when they’ve escaped the party on impulse, when Izumi is drunk and handsy, and Nazuna’s bed is suddenly occupied. There are worse ways to spend the evening, and Izumi is even better company in bed, giving him a distraction from the annoying fact that Kuro never showed his big, stupid, brutish face. Izumi dozes, and Nazuna grumpily rolls to blow out his bedside candle. _Fine, then. Maybe I’ll flip someone else large and annoying a handful of coins._

 

The light from the opening door illuminates a shadow of a gigantic man, silhouetted against the candlelight from the hallway. Kuro looks around the room, eyes falling first on Izumi’s moonlight hair, then on Nazuna’s blond strands, and his face settles into an impassive mask. “I’ll be out here,” he rumbles, and closes the door without waiting to hear a reply.

 

Nazuna’s mouth falls open, then snaps shut, irritation immediately clouding his face. He hastily hops out of bed, donning his dressing gown before padding to the door, still buttoning it up as he rips the door open and stalks outside. “What’s with that tone of voice?” he lowly snaps, pleased that his annoyance hasn’t started his stuttering up yet. “And where’ve you been, I wanted to speak with you.”

 

Kuro frowns, looking down at Nazuna’s familiar glaring face. “I told you I was checking on my sister. I came over as soon as I knew she was safe. Good thing I wasn’t a little faster, huh?”

 

“It took longer than I thought it would. You were supposed to rescue me from that _awful_ party.” Nazuna’s lips purse as he folds his arms, glowering up at Kuro. “If you were earlier, I would’ve kicked him out.”

 

A corner of Kuro’s mouth twitches unhappily. “Is this because I got that demotion? I thought you were happy about that. But if it was the status after all…”

 

Nazuna’s brow furrows. “This?” He pauses. “Oh. Izumi.” He reaches out, and slaps Kuro’s stupid, unyielding chest. It makes his hand ache, but he ignores that with a scowl. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Yeah. So?”

 

“So stop reminding me when I want to give you another job offer. Ugh, you’re sooo _stupid_ , did you really think—“ He lowers his voice, his expression cross. “Did you really think I was with you because of the Kingsguard? It’s a terrible position, why would I be?”

 

Kuro shrugs, a gesture that could easily lift a few barrels of water. “Hard to think it’s got nothing to do with it when you suddenly go to bed with my new boss.”

 

“Because we were tipsy, at a s-stupid—“ There it goes. Damn it. Nazuna is hardpressed not to stomp his foot. “Stupid party. So he suggesthed we go, and… _what_ , I hate when you look at me like that, all judge-y. _You’re_ married. Maybe I wanted to stick it in someone for a change.”

 

Kuro huffs, and one big hand comes down, mussing the hair over Nazuna’s face. “Sorry. My bad. You’re right. He’s famous for doing that kinda thing, I guess. Just tell me he treated ya right.”

 

Nazuna growls, and he resists the urge to bite Kuro’s hand. That _never_ ends well. “I flipped him over and did him through the mattress, if you _must_ know,” he snidely says. “Like I said—maybe I just wanted to stick it in someone for a change.”

 

“Don’ bite me,” Kuro warns, a bit of his customary good humor creeping back in. “‘Member what happened last time. So, how was it? Ya like feelin’ cold wind on yer back for a change? Should I get used to rollin’ over?”

 

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Nazuna mutters, reflex making him press his tongue against his teeth to make sure they aren’t chipped just by being in Kuro’s _presence._ “I can’t believe you were acting jealous. I’m reconsidering the offer I wanted to give you.”

 

“Ya hate it that much?” Kuro asks, amused. “That I care who’s gettin’ wet with the one I love?”

 

Nazuna’s mouth flaps a couple of times, and he huffs, rocking back, fidgeting where he stands. “I don’t hate it,” he murmurs. “It was just surprising. And I was annoyed with you to begin with.” He looks back up at him, his face faintly flushed. “You’ll have to make it up to me.”

 

“Well, now, that depends, don’t it?” Kuro grins, and crouches down, knowing from long experience that this is the preferred way of speaking to Nazuna face to face, since every other option involves him lifting the other man. “On what this job offer o’yours is.”

 

“I want you to be my man.”

 

Nazuna’s eyes lid, the flush not leaving his cheeks. Maybe it’s the lingering alcohol, or maybe it’s that easy, obnoxious confession of affection from Kuro, but either way, it’s there to stay. “You’re not tied to the Kingsguard in the same way now. I need a real bodyguard, one that answers to me first.”

 

Kuro’s eyes flicker with something unknowable, and he shifts closer, taking Nazuna’s hand in one of his own huge ones, careful not even to squeeze. “I’ll need th’ new boss’s approval. Good thing ya got ‘im warmed up for me.”

 

“Asking for his approval sort of defeats the purpose of you answering only to me,” Nazuna mutters, his lower lip jutting out. “I’m going to pay you a _lot_ , you know.”

 

Kuro grins. “I knew yer ol’ man dyin’ was good for somethin’. Already walkin’ ‘round like ya own the place, no matter where…it’s a good look. I like it on ya.”

 

“Screw you,” Nazuna quips, leaning forward and draping his arms around Kuro’s shoulders. “Maybe I will make you roll over for me next time, just because you’re being like this.”

 

His bedroom door picks exactly then to open, and Izumi, sleepy-eyed and tousled, but at least dressed to leave and go to his own abode, pauses, taking in the sight of Nazuna and Kuro very much holding one another, all but kissing, and immediately takes a step back. “Whoops. Sorry—“

 

“Kill him,” Nazuna says before he even releases Kuro.

 

Kuro moves faster than anyone would expect for such a big man, grabbing Izumi by the neck and driving him to the floor inside Nazuna’s room in one motion, pinning him down. “Can’t,” he grunts, as if this is all routine for him, eyes fixed on Izumi. “He doesn’t die. Sorry ‘bout this, Captain. Secrets are what they are.”

 

Nazuna pulls the door shut behind himself, heaving a sigh. “I have a bag,” he says. “Let’s put him in it and drown him.”

 

“That won’t work either,” Izumi frantically wheezes, his fingers reflexively grasping at Kuro’s wrist, hard enough that it bends his nails back. “Fuck you, I know how to keep a secret!”

 

“Might not drown him,” Kuro acknowledges, “but it’ll keep him busy for a while, if we drop it far from shore and tie him up first. Damn, he really is a fine Kingsguard.”

 

“I knew already, you’re wasting your time!”

 

“Like hell you did,” Nazuna sniffs, dropping himself down onto the end of his bed. “The bag’s at the bottom of my wardrobe.”

 

“I’m _telling you_ , I knew! I’ve known for weeks, and I haven’t told a soul, why the fuck would I?” Izumi growls, glaring up at Kuro. “Let me go, I’m your _Captain._ ”

 

“I let him go for even a second and he’s gone,” Kuro warns, ignoring Izumi’s words. “He’s strong and fast, we’re gonna have to be really careful about this. This is the hardest damn one yet.”

 

“And he’s got the ear of the king, too,” Nazuna groans, burying his face into one hand. “This is the worst. No less than half a dozen nobles saw me leave with him. It’s going to come back to me.”

 

“So maybe don’t _kill me_ , and maybe _listen to me_ ,” Izumi sweetly suggests. “I caught your stupid rabbit-loving arse in a lie weeks ago, and didn’t say a damned thing! Why _would I_ , honestly!”

 

“What would I be lying about that would make you think I was involved with this idiot?” Nazuna finally snaps, throwing up his hands.

 

“Who makes your clothes—Kuro and I were talking, and he mentioned his side hobby, tailoring, and mentioned he made things for you. But when I asked you about it, you denied it. Why else would you deny something like that if you weren’t fucking them?” Izumi kicks Kuro in the shin, and regrets it with a hiss. “Fuck. Let me go, that’s a fucking order.”

 

Kuro frowns, and looks over at Nazuna. “Huh. Hard to think he’d come up with that under pressure if he didn’t really think so. He’s a great fighter and a loyal Guard, but he’s not known for swift thinkin’. Problem is, I dunno if he can really keep a secret. Ev’ryone knows ‘bout him and the king.”

 

“On purpose! I’m making a statement!”

 

Nazuna frowns, drumming his fingers against the side of his bed. “I hate that he remembers every single damned thing,” he grouses. “Let him go, but don’t let him leave. I’m still thinking about the bag.”

 

Kuro looks down at Izumi, then slowly releases his hand, and the muscle and weight behind it. “No hard feelings, Captain. Gotta protect what matters.”

 

Izumi immediately leaps to his feet, putting as much distance between himself and Kuro as he can in the room, and rips off the dagger strapped against his lower back. “This _is_ enchanted, and it _will_ cut you,” he bluntly says. “Or do you need a reminder of our duel?”

 

“Stop, _stop,_ gods, you’re both so annoying,” Nazuna growls. “I hate this. How do I make sure he’ll keep his mouth shut without killing him?”

 

“He’s an honorable man,” Kuro says warily, putting himself between Izumi and the door. “If he gives his oath, he’ll keep it. Just gotta figure out how to get him to give an oath. I’d rather not do it under pressure, Captain. Healing from that beesting hurts like a bitch.”

 

“I’ll saw your arm off this time,” Izumi flatly says. “Both of you are dense. If you want me to keep my mouth shut, I will.”

 

“Swear on your king’s life.”

 

Izumi snorts out a laugh at that. “Fuck no. If it’s between you two or my king, I know which I’ll pick. Tell you what, though—I’ll swear on the Emperor’s life.”

 

Kuro turns that over in his mind a few times, thinking. Then, finally, he shakes his head. “Swear on your honor that you’ll protect this secret like you’d protect one of your loved ones. It’s worth more than my life to me, Captain. Far more than my arm, to keep him safe.”

 

Izumi frowns, glancing between the two of them for a long moment before he sighs, lowering his knife and sheathing it at his back. “I swear. I swear on my honor as a member of the Kingsguard, word of this won’t leave my lips.” His eyebrows raise. “Happy? Gods, he’s the Master of Coin—he could’ve just offered to pay for my silence, I’m broke as hell.”

 

“Bribery never works. I guess this is satisfactory, if Kuro thinks your word is acceptable.” It’s not that Nazuna finds Izumi untrustworthy—he _likes_ him, after all—but… “If word of this got out, my name would be dirt,” he settles upon. “Worse than dirt. My family…has a very staunch reputation.”

 

“Yeah, I’m no stranger to that concept, you know.” Izumi raises his hands wearily. “I don’t care. I honestly don’t give a damn what you two are up to behind closed doors. But have you seriously killed people because of this?”

 

“No one that’ll be missed,” Kuro grunts, not denying it in the slightest. “Can’t take chances. Reputation’s all we’ve got. My heritage an’ his precarious situation, we can’t afford t’be careless. An’ ya got kind of a reputation of bein’ loose-lipped.” He holds up his hands, palms up. “Deliberate statement or no, it’s enough to worry men without inheritances like us.”

 

Izumi folds his arms across his chest, glaring back at him. “I’m not an idiot,” he says. “Consider that. And consider it’s also common knowledge that I’m not exactly of pure-blooded heritage, either—so your position won’t be up for debate because of that. Or this,” he adds. “It might be up because you ruined my evening, though. Honestly, fuck you, I was having a good time,” he grouses, striding to the door. “Move, this conversation is over.”

 

Kuro stands to the side, uneasiness in the posture. The second Izumi leaves, he sits on the bed, hearing it creak. “I don’t like this. He’s a good man, but this is the least safe we’ve ever been.”

 

Nazuna groans loudly, flopping onto his back and throwing his arms over his face. “This is the worst,” he morosely says. “And I can’t shake the thought that it’s my fault. _Completely_.”

 

Kuro shakes his head. “As much mine. Shouldn’t’ve put us in that situation out in public. Dunno what I was thinkin’. Yer fault for gettin’ me all riled, maybe, but I do a damn good job of it myself.”

 

“I shouldn’t’ve put my dick in him,” Nazuna unhappily mutters. “My dick disagrees, but logic says otherwise.”

 

“If it helps,” Kuro says, as cheerfully as he can, “in my time in the Kingsguard, I’ve heard about a hundred men say the same thing. You’re in quite a lot of company.”

 

Nazuna kicks a leg in Kuro’s direction. “To hell with you. You still haven’t accepted my offer, I don’t want to hear your opinions until you do.”

 

“Careful, you’ll hurt yer leg,” Kuro rumbles, and catches that leg, gently stroking a thumb down the back of Nazuna’s knee. “Course I accept. I got good opinions.”

 

Somewhat mollified, Nazuna sinks back down, though his expression is still grumpy. “You didn’t even ask what kind of salary I was going to give you.”

 

“You said it was a lot.” Kuro shrugs. “You’re the Master of Coin, y’know more about how much a personal guard makes than I do. Heh, this’ll teach me to be late to get you out of a party, huh?”

 

“It better.” Nazuna shuts his eyes. “Get into bed with me properly. He smells good, but I’d rather everything smell like you, thanks.”

 

Kuro stands, large hands flicking surprisingly dexterously over his snaps, buttons, and clasps, leaving his clothes in a neat folded pile before he gets back into bed. His arms go around Nazuna, fiddling with the ties to his dressing gown, sliding the soft fabric back over his shoulders. “I made this, didn’t I? I can tell by how beautiful it makes you look.”

 

It’s an acceptable compliment, unlike the _you’re so cute!_ or _you’re just adorable_ that women like to toss at him—or worse, that some _men_ like to try with him. He’s taken out more than a couple of knees like that. He curls into Kuro’s chest, splaying his hands over his shoulders. “I don’t wear it unless you make it, these days,” he softly admits.

 

“Good. I’ll make ya enough that you’ll never need to.” It’s easy to curl around Nazuna, enfolding him in huge arms and legs, keeping him close to his broad chest. It’s always been surprisingly easy, with him. “Just so ya know. If anythin’ goes wrong with the Captain, I’ll put myself on the line for it. Swear it’s a lie and disappear.”

 

 _You have a wife, you shouldn’t say things like that._ Nazuna says nothing, however, his fingers curling slowly against the back of Kuro’s neck. “If it comes to that, I’ll keep paying your salary to your family,” he says instead. “But I’d like to think…he won’t say anything. He’s my friend.”

 

“He’s mine, too. And my boss. I just…like to have a plan.” Kuro shrugs, burying his face in soft, fine hairs, so unlike his own wiry, tough strands. “Anything to keep ya safe. You know that.”

 

“This is stupid, you know,” Nazuna says after a moment, his voice muffled where he buries his face into Kuro’s chest. “If we had good sense, we wouldn’t do this.”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

Kuro’s fingers stroke slowly up and back Nazuna’s back. One splayed hand can cover half of his back entirely, he knows from experience. “And yer right about my family. I shouldn’t…but I’m here.”

 

“I wonder how much longer I can get away with being single.” Nazuna wrinkles his nose. “I’m getting old. I’m even getting offers from the South now—the older I get, the richer I get.”

 

“It doesn’t have to change anything, if you don’t want it to,” Kuro reminds him. “Me getting married didn’t change it between us, eh? I mean, we weren’t _together_ then, that was when we were apart, but…didn’t change my feelins none.”

 

“It ticked me off.”

 

The admission is a quiet one, and Nazuna wants to slap himself for saying it. “Ignore that,” he mutters, feeling his face grow hotter. “Forget I said that.”

 

“I knew.” Kuro tugs Nazuna even closer, being incredibly careful not to squeeze too hard. “You’re not that good at hiding the way ya feel. I like it.”

 

“You’d think if that was the case, other people would realize I’m serious more often than not.” Nazuna throws a leg over Kuro’s hip in an attempt to wrap more limbs around him. “I don’t want to marry anyone else, but I’ll listen to their offers to keep them off my back for now and make them just think I’m picky,” he mutters. “Imagine my children. Terrifying.”

 

“Don’t make that decision jus’ yet,” Kuro warns. “When ya get older, you’ll wanna leave everythin’ ya got to someone ya love. Havin’ a family will make ya feel a lot more stable in the long run.” He pauses, then adds, “But I’ll hate it. Like you do now. I’ll hate it a lot.”

 

“I’ll just adopt kids. It’s not like I’m from a noble line, they can’t tell me how to run my house or carry on my name.” Nazuna’s fingers splay against Kuro’s chest, eyes lidded as he drags them down, absently tracing over skin. “Right now, I care about exactly one person, and I already give them a great deal of my time and money.”

 

“And about to give them a lot more money,” Kuro agrees, “in exchange for time, eh?”

 

Nazuna’s lips twitch. “Keep saying it like that, and you’ll sound like a prostitute.”

 

“What are mercenaries but whores?” Kuro asks, amused. “I sell my body as much as those women, ya know? Bit different ways, but I won’t argue with someone who wants to say that it’s the same in theory.”

 

“It’s the same. As far as I’m concerned, just makes you more attractive. I like men that get their hands dirty.”

 

“Hey. I wash ‘em before I touch ya.”

 

“Next time, don’t. Get me bloody, too.”

 

“Rabbits really are the most bloodthirsty animals, eh? I should’ve paid more attention to my Mam’s stories.”

 

“I’ll bite your face off, and you’d deserve it.”

 

“I warned you about the biting, you really wanna break off another tooth?”

 

“…It might be worth it.” Nazuna doesn’t attempt it, though, and instead butts his face into Kuro’s chest. “Whatever,” he sleepily adds. “I own you.”

 

“Yes, m’lord. As long as ya can stand me.”


	43. Chapter 43

It isn’t that Rei dislikes High Harbor—he just resents that he has to be here, now, _on an assignment_.

 

Being under the thumb of the Academy’s Emperor makes him grind his teeth. Being _allowed_ within the Academy—as if it’s a favor to him and his brother—is an insult when it means that he’s supposed to be monitoring things that are _not_ his fault. The current issue: an escaped pet of a nobleman that thought it would be delightful to keep a Shadowlands demon (specifically, a flesh-eating, human-skinning ghoul) within their crypt. Eichi had shrugged, told him that it wasn’t _his_ fault that some human decided to import such a creature in the first place, and now it was up to Rei to handle it—or else.

 

Thus, here he is, in High Harbor, and in disguise.

 

Even in the light of the moon, Rei knows he’s unrecognizable to those in High Harbor that he might know—and that’s good, for now. The party held at one particular noble’s house is the perfect hunting ground for the ghoul; a call for couples to thoroughly enjoy a night of fun, and for single men to be on the prowl for any ladies unlucky enough to arrive without a mate.

 

As himself, navigating such a party would be nearly impossible. Appearing as a woman, however, Rei finds it very easy to get where he wants to be, especially when dressed in a particularly low-cut red gown, the latest fashion leaving it tightly corseted about his waist. His eyes scan the room over his wine glass, watching, waiting, and he thumbs a long tendril of black hair back behind his ear. It shouldn’t be difficult to sniff out another demon, especially one as disgusting as a ghoul, amongst all of these _very_ normal humans. High Harbor, for all of its loveliness, is not exactly a breeding ground for oddities.

 

“Well, aren’t you a lovely dish of a thing? Where have they been hiding a gem like _you_ , sweetling?”

 

Kaoru of the Hakaze Clan, or formerly of the Hakaze Clan, now Lord Kaoru of High Harbor, absolute delinquent and family disappointment, pulls a rose out of a nearby vase and twirls it around his fingers, proffering it to the gorgeous young lady, unfamiliar to him, but with an edge to her eyes that he definitely enjoys. “Care to take a turn around the floor with a rascal like me? Or is someone as beautiful as you destined to elude my grasp for eternity?”

 

Oh. Oh, Rei has made a gross error. While this form certainly allows him access to places he wouldn’t otherwise manage to be, it also makes men like _this_ attracted to him, and that’s—hmm. His— _her_ , time to be in that mindset or it won’t be convincing—her lips part, and Rei settles upon taking another sip of wine rather than accepting the offered rose. “You think you’re very charming, don’t you,” she says. At least Kaoru Hakaze doesn’t reek of gross, garbage-dwelling ghoul creatures.

 

Kaoru presses his hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “If a beautiful girl doesn’t think I’m charming, I’m less than dirt! Where are you from, my dear, and how can I keep you from ever going back there?” He throws in a wink for good measure.

 

“The Capital,” Rei offers up, and begrudgingly surrenders, plucking the rose from Kaoru’s fingers. He’s cute, unfortunately. “Which is less wet than this place, so I think I’ll be going back regardless. Aren’t you supposed to be the host of this party? What kind of host doesn’t already have a date?”

 

“Every girl is my date! That’s the privilege of being the host!”

 

Kaoru beams, and suddenly thanks long years of his training for making sure his smile looks perfectly genuine, even as his interest sharpens. _Damn. She’s really cute, too._ He’d felt the barest brush of the girl’s finger, but the ping to his long-honed senses had been unmistakeable. This girl had demon blood, or was touched by one.

 

It was entirely possible, of course, that the creature he was hunting could have marked this girl, and was stalking her like prey. More likely, the girl herself was the creature, but either way… “This party could use work, couldn’t it?” he asks suddenly, and offers a hand. “Let me show you something really spectacular upstairs, a special feature of this gorgeous place. No tricks, on my honor.”

 

Rei hesitates, her gaze flicking back over the room. Still, she can’t smell anything, can’t even feel the slightest flicker of demonic presence anywhere in this damned manor—which is frustrating. If anything would bring out such a creature, it should be a party like this.

 

The worst, however, is that now that Kaoru has _clearly_ propositioned her, the stir of her blood is more or less impossible to resist.

 

 _For once_ , Rei begrudgingly thinks, tentatively placing her hand in Kaoru’s and trying to ignore the electric tingle that follows, _it would be nice if I could control that around humans._ Perhaps this is just a way the universe has of telling her that she _needs_ that extra little boost before continuing this mission. “No tricks,” she firmly says, downing back the last of her wine (perhaps in a fashion that’s too masculine, but oh well) and leaving her goblet behind. “Or else.”

 

“Ooh, a bit fiesty, are we?” Kaoru _likes_ this girl, how unfortunate. For just a moment, he considers doing exactly as he’s hinted, and just cheerfully tumbling this girl for a fun evening, then letting her leave in the wee hours. No one in his family would know. He was in _exile_ , wasn’t he? Surely, no one was expecting him to do anything like duty. Not at a _party_.

 

Except then more of his own people would get eaten.

 

Well, maybe he could sleep with her _before_ she started to eat him, then…no, that was a dumb thought. Stupid dick.

 

Kaoru leads the girl towards his rooms, far above any of the noise, just in case, and opens the balcony doors. “There isn’t another view like this for hundreds of miles,” he assures her. “Believe me, I’ve checked. What’s your name, sweet one?”

 

The view of the ocean is certainly a lovely one, Rei will give Kaoru that much. If he were a woman—no, he _is_ a woman right now, and so therefore, she sighs, propping her elbows up onto the railing to gaze out over the sea. Perhaps Kanata is out there right now, flopping about. _You’re supposed to be the oddest thing about High Harbor, my friend._

 

“Reina.” As if her own real, given name is gender neutral enough, making it slightly more feminine proves to be quite easy. “And of course, I know yours,” she says with an arch of her eyebrows, glancing over her shoulder. “Lord Kaoru. Everyone knows you in this city.” Still no smell of disgusting demons. If anything, now it’s clouded over by the scent of Kaoru’s arousal, which becomes more and more distracting by the moment. She turns, back resting against the railing. Why are breasts always so _heavy?_ “Is this really the only thing you wanted to show me?”

 

“Mm, maybe one of the few things.” Kaoru’s eyes glint, and he shifts, getting his arms around her from behind, but holding the railing, not her. “A girl like you—“

 

He freezes, as a mental alarm starts to go off. It isn’t from Reina, though, but from elsewhere, deep inside his manor, back at the party room. The stench of black magic tinges it, and he pulls back, going for a disarming laugh. “Damn, my servants picked a terrible time to ring for my help, I’d know that bell anywhere. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in the tiniest second!” Then he’s gone, disappeared through the doors at a dead run.

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Rei mutters underneath her breath, kicking irritably at the railing. Being horny on a mission is the worst, especially when she’s not even _that_ interested, but the stirring of magical and biological compulsions tell her she must, she _must_ , with every single thud of blood through her veins, and—

 

Rei shuts her eyes, breathing in deep, letting the cold air wash over her skin. The fine sweat that already breaks across her skin leaves her restless, and Rei lifts the hair off the back of her neck, twisting it up and holding it there against the back of her head as she drifts back inside into Kaoru’s rooms, shivering. Comfortable—she’ll show him _comfortable._

 

Without Kaoru leering over her, however, there’s something about the room that seems…off. Maybe it’s also just a handful of magical senses going haywire from being so distracted, but compulsion leaves Rei to fling open Kaoru’s wardrobe in an attempt to sniff out the source of what feels so strange. Something is under lock and key in here, something—

 

A chest in the back of Kaoru’s closet ends up being suspect. The heavy, ominous feel of it makes Rei hesitate as she lays hands on it. Holy wards—that’s what decorates this thing. She hikes up her dress to more easily kneel, thumbing at the latch. The runes etched into it reek of something old and…hmm. _What sort of family are you from, really, pretty boy?_

 

“Touch that,” Kaoru says pleasantly, stepping out from behind the door frame, blade pricking the back of the young lady’s back, “and I’ll have to ruin that pretty dress, not to mention that pretty chest. It’s a demon-killing sword, my sweet, so don’t try.”

 

The touch of the blade against her skin makes Rei twitch and freeze in spite of herself, fingers curling against the chest. Whatever Kaoru currently has in hand is also no joke; it makes her skin crawl, a sense of unease settling in her belly. “You’re making a mistake,” she says calmly, turning her head back to catch Kaoru’s eyes. “Whatever you’re looking for—it isn’t me.”

 

Kaoru doesn’t ease his tension in the slightest, eyes glittering. “I wasn’t sure. Thought you might just be some cute thing that’s just been marked for dinner, but you went _right_ to that chest like it was calling your name, demon.”

 

“Forgive a lady for immediately seeking out a man’s secrets,” Rei airily says, fluttering a hand helplessly. “It was awfully rude of you to hide it from me in the first place. You’ve got a keen sense if you call _me_ ‘demon’, though.”

 

“You can thank my sainted ancestors for that,” Kaoru says, voice still light, affable, though the hand on his sword is deadly steady. “Lucky for you, I’m a rebellious one, so I don’t always follow their rules. Especially the ones that make sense, like hearing demons out before executing them. So you have ten seconds to convince me I’m mistaken.”

 

“I’m a half-blood.” It’s the quickest way out of anything, usually, followed by—“And I work for the Academy. I’m here to hunt something down, just like you are. I _swear_.” Fucking around with a Holy Knight-apparent wielding a blessed blade and with access to a holy sword is not something that Rei wants to deal with, actually, even with all the magic in the world at her fingertips.

 

“Oh?” Plausible, but Kaoru isn’t an idiot, no matter how he plays one. “Name your contacts in High Harbor.”

 

“U-um…I’m actually something of a free agent, so I don’t really…”

 

“What’s your chain of command at the Academy, then?” Kaoru asks patiently, the sword never wavering. “Free agents are what I’m basically here to kill, you understand.”

 

“I report directly to the Emperor! I’m a special case, I’m a wizard!” Rei defensively says, holding both hands up. “A sex wizard, actually? Which means that you’re really mean, actually, heh, when you start something and don’t finish it, that puts me in kind of a vulnerable position so you can really stop pointing that at me, I’m already suffering.”

 

Kaoru turns the sword, letting it prick into that creamy, perfect skin. “So you’re wearing someone else’s body, wizard? Release her.”

 

“No, no, this is my body—I—“ Rei huffs out a hot breath, shutting her eyes when that sword draws blood, and _stings_. “Ow, actually. We’re wasting time, you know; there’s a creature floating around this place that _needs_ to be killed, and that isn’t me.”

 

“The ghoul?” Kaoru asks, eyebrow raised. “A friend of yours, maybe?”

 

“ _No_ , will you listen to me for five seconds?” Rei twists around, chest heaving as she glares up at Kaoru, eyes narrowed and glinting red. “No _ghoul_ is going to sit here and try to reason with you like this. Let me up and let me help you, and it’ll make both of our jobs much easier.”

 

The tug of black, evil magic seethes at the edges of Kaoru’s senses, hungry and twisted. He licks his lips. “You’re a wizard? Swear it by your power.” It was an oath that could cripple a wizard magically, if it were broken.

 

Unfortunately, Lord Kaoru seems to know his stuff. “I swear it,” Rei firmly says all the same, the twist of unease growing by the moment to combine with the already unsettling, unresolved feeling of _frustration_. “Put your knife away. Those things always make me nervous.”

 

Kaoru’s eyes narrow. “Say the full words, I swear it upon my power. You think I’m some green kid you can pull one over?” He raises his elbow, as if about to strike. “Like all the others your kind have killed? If you think I have more respect for a half-breed wizard than for a ghoul, you’re mistaken.”

 

There are times when Rei strongly considers flaunting status and blowing up a few things to make a point. Now is not one of those times, when she is very certain doing so would make Kaoru kill her faster. “I swear it upon my power—I’m a wizard, I’m here to help, not hinder you,” she insistently says. “And for the record, if you put me in the same class as a ghoul again, we can’t be friends. Dreadful things, honestly, no _proper_ demon would ever want to associate.”

 

Kaoru’s lip curls back, just for a second, at the mention of _proper demons_ , but he tries to hide it. Finally, he lowers his sword, watching, wary. “What do we do about this piece of shit, then? Can you find it?”

 

“I was trying to, before you seduced me.” Rei slowly picks herself off, dusting off her knees and flipping her hair back over her shoulders. “Which is distracting, you know? You caught the scent of it just after you brought me back here, didn’t you. Er, or whatever it is you holy boys do, do you just feel it? I can smell it.”

 

“We sense it,” Kaoru says dryly. He nearly enlightens Reina about his own status, but holds it back at the last moment. No use complicating things before they bring the creature down. “You need to be armed? Also knock it off with the come-hither magic, it won’t work on me.”

 

“I’m not doing anything,” Rei defensively says, adjusting her dress—which mostly consists of hiking up her boobs again, damn it. “You’re the one who came onto _me_ without any prompting, so you must not be as immune as you think.” _At least, to_ the _Demon Prince._ “I _am_ armed. Magically, I mean. Do you really think the Emperor would send someone useless here?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ve seen him do a lot of stupid stuff,” Kaoru mutters. Then the magic surges at the edges of his senses, and he takes off at a dead run, holding the sword carefully, trusting that Reina will either keep up or at least not be on his case anymore. “Follow if you can!”

 

 _The least you could do is fuck me,_ Rei darkly thinks, and tries to shove that thought aside as she darts off after Kaoru, heels clicking rapidly on the floor as she keeps a pace behind.

 

The _smell_ is overwhelming. Not just of the ghoul, but the stench of _dead_ blood—sharp, bitter, and intermingling with booze long after a human has passed. It’s enough to make Rei gag, and at the end of the corridor where the ghoul is bent over her newest catch, Rei can see why as her eyes rapidly adjust to the dim, flickering light only offered up by candles.

 

The man has already been gutted, entrails on the floor, blood trickling out in a slow circle around him. The ghoul sits in it, eating slowly, obviously some choice organ between her teeth. When she looks up, the eyes aren’t human, even if the skin is—they’re a solid, soulless black, and they look past Kaoru to immediately fixate on Rei. “You,” the ghoul breathes, her head cocking sharply. “Of all the places to see _you_.”

 

What Rei does _not_ count on is being recognized by a ghoul from the depths of the Shadowlands. It makes her hesitate—the first mistake, and possibly, the last, when the ghoul stands up, surging past Kaoru in an inhuman, unsteady lurch to grab Rei by the throat with bloodied, crooked fingers and slam her into the wall.

 

_This is why I wanted out._

 

Horror twists in Kaoru’s gut. Why should he have to see things like this? Why should he, who’s never hurt anyone, have to spend his life looking at the worst things there are? Why should he have to see his friends ripped apart, and smell the foul stench of a ghoul’s breath as she chewed on the organs of a really nice guy? Why is it so wrong for him to want to fill his life with beautiful, gentle people and things when the rest of the world is so ugly?

 

_I could leave. I could do it again. She’s distracted._

 

The thought is tempting. Surely, those two would take care of each other, and the world would be better off.

 

Wouldn’t it?

 

Kaoru’s hand itches on the hilt of a sword that suddenly feels too heavy for him. “Now would be a good time to use your wizard powers,” he calls, uncertain.

 

The problem being, obviously, that Rei is already _trying_.

 

That expanse of power, usually bottomless, most of it usually seeping over, feels out of reach. It’s an altogether unfamiliar sensation, one that brings up a surge of panic rather than the usual calm, effortless way of magicking that Rei uses, and she desperately grabs at the ghoul’s wrist, her own nails cutting into that rotten skin. “Can’t,” she rasps out. _Why? Why?!_ Half a dozen scenarios fumble their way through Rei’s mind—is this a setup courtesy of the Emperor himself? Is this not a ghoul at all, but some archdemon? No, that can’t be right, there’s no _way_.

 

The ghoul laughs, a dry, crackling sound, and tosses Rei back down the hall, a heap of limbs and silk. “So this is our Prince?” she hisses, black-eyed stare unblinking. “Lucky me, lucky day, if _you’re_ dead, then the Queen will award me!”

 

Well, damn. There goes Kaoru’s attempt at staying neutral. At least, when it comes down to it, it’s got nothing to do with demons, holy boys as his new friend has said, or wizards.

 

Kaoru just _hates_ seeing girls in trouble.

 

With skill that his father’s armsmasters would have wept to see, Kaoru salutes with his sword to the ghoul’s back, then executes a perfect leaping thrust, whipping the point forward with deadly accuracy. Ghouls are _fast_ , and he manages a long score to the creature’s side, but a lucky twist keeps it from sinking home. “Aw, just her? I’m going to feel left out, darling.” _Get it together, wizard, if you truly are one. I’ll buy you time._

 

The ghoul whips away with a snarl, bloodied teeth bared. Kaoru’s blade didn’t just cut; the slash through the stolen skin makes the edges of it char and curl, leaving it to slough off and drip to the floor in flimsy, rotten chunks. “What’s a Holy Knight doing here, too?” she breathes, lids fluttering once in a strange mockery of blinking over dry, black holes for eyes. “You smell good—let me—“

 

The hallway’s bearings rumble underneath them, and the ghoul pauses, glancing down to see the peculiar hallmark of carpeting splitting apart underfoot, long-dead floorboards birthing twisting roots anew…that all come to a precise stop less than a foot’s length away from her, much to Rei’s obvious frustration (and confusion) as she picks herself off the ground. “Kill it,” Rei shakily manages. “Something’s wrong—I _can’t_.”

 

“Leave it to demon wizards to be unreliable,” Kaoru says with a sigh. He gives the fallen girl a nod, then twirls his sword in his hand, just once, shaking off the nervousness that comes with not wielding it in a while. “Sorry, sweetheart. No Holy Knights here. Just a prodigal son. That’s more than enough for something like you, though.”

 

He’s not sure whether his father’s armsmaster would have approved of the way he tears in with a vicious slice, without any grace or delicacy. He’s pretty sure the man wouldn’t have minded, however, when the ghoul’s smoking, desiccated head rolls free of the rest of her corpse, both halves twitching in ugly spasms for a long minute before they finally burst into self-consuming stains, leaving nothing but a greasy scorchmark on the wooden floors.

 

Kaoru shoulders his blade with distaste, immediately cleaning it on his sleeve. “Did she get you? Or do you just like looking at my ass while I work?”

 

Hands trembling, Rei slowly sinks back down to the floor as her legs wobble threateningly. “I don’t…think she got me,” she manages, staring down at the floorboards—more than slightly warped now, thanks to her failed attempts at magicking. “But I don’t know what happened, either. I’m…I’m a Nightcloak, I’ve never felt my magic _blocked_ before.” Rei swallows heavily. “Also, please stop making sex jokes, or I might _actually_ die.”

 

Kaoru sighs, and turns to extend a hand to the slumped, shaking woman. “Come on, let’s get you back to my rooms. You’re not fit to be out here right now. Maybe that thing was more powerful than she looked.” He paused, then added, “Or maybe you’re not as powerful as you think you are, it’s pretty common.”

 

“That’s definitely not it,” Rei groans, steeling herself before reaching out to take Kaoru’s hand. It’s about as warm as anticipated, and even more delightfully worn—a strong contrast to the pretty boy noble image, that’s for sure. “This is probably that Emperor’s fault,” Rei crossly mutters. “A setup, or something like it. He would like nothing more than for me to be dead.”

 

“Sure,” Kaoru agrees amiably, without believing any of it. He helps Reina to her feet, then gets an arm around her delightfully soft and slender waist, not bothering to resist the urge to tug her close. It’s been a long day, and his heart is heavy. “Dammit. Enovan was a good guy, he didn’t even believe in demons. I’ll have to tell his family.”

 

“I’m sorry.” And Rei means it, genuinely, no matter how her mind lingers on how strange the entire situation is. No matter how she plays it over and over in her mind, it still makes absolutely no sense. Better judgement aside, a distracted mind and still-thrumming pulse makes Rei quick to lean into that hold, pressing her cheek into Kaoru’s shoulder. “I’m assuming…if you’re _just_ Lord Kaoru, then you want nothing to do with this kind of thing.”

 

Kaoru hesitates, and purses his lips together. “That’s not really…why I left,” he says softly, pain creasing the corners of his eyes. “It doesn’t seem to matter. When most people go on vacation, they get bug bites. I get ghouls. It follows me. Must be some kind of Paladin curse. Thanks, ancestors.”

 

“Ah. Same. Not the Paladin thing, but similarly…things do like to follow me.” Rei hesitates, then with distracting, needy instinct soundly winning over logic, she curls her fingers against Kaoru’s chest, staring up at him. “How much would your family hate you if you went to bed with a half-blood?”

 

Slowly, Kaoru’s arms curl around Reina, feeling her soft curling hair against his fingers. “Ah...” She smells good. She smells alive, despite the tingling shock of the demon blood, and a dark part of him whispers that he’s always wanted to give that a try, see if it feels good _everywhere_. “I might not mind doing a little…investigation on the subject. Damn, sweetheart, you really need it bad, don’t you?”

 

And because Kaoru is just as much a creature of wants and needs some of the time, he bends his head, kissing, then sucking softly on her neck, hands splayed out on her lower back, tugging her close.

 

“I _told you_ —I’m a sex wizard—do you even listen to anything women say to you, or are you too busy staring at their tits?” It’s supposed to be a complaint, but it certainly doesn’t sound like one. Kaoru’s mouth on her neck makes Rei shiver and jerk, the last resistant part of her mind deciding this is a wonderful idea, the mission is complete even if she didn’t complete it, and reporting back can happen _later_. Answering to Eichi sucks, anyway. “You’re not allowed to stop,” Rei insistently says, the hitch of her breath taking away some of the force of those words. Long, pale fingers wrap their way around Kaoru’s neck. “Or you’ll kill me. But I suppose, mnn, you’d like that, Sir Knight?”

 

Kaoru has to admit, though he’s loathe to do so, that he might not be  _quite_  as resistant to sex magic as the rest of his family would like. Either that, or they’ve never encountered someone as potently powerful as Reina, because the idea of refusing her at this point sounds about as appealing as having some of that ghoul slime for lunch, even with the recent atrocities still aching in his mind. 

  


Well, the atrocities would still be there, and what was the point of ignoring his duties as a holy paladin if not to sample the local culture?

  


Kaoru grabs Reina’s ass, squeezing the firm flesh then lifting her that way, sending them both to the bed in a tumble as he kisses down her neck, to her chest, unfastening her blouse as he does.  _This is stupid, this is stupid, she could eat you, she could turn you into a pathetic mindless drooling drone and use you against your family, she could break your mind—_

  


But she was  _so_  pretty.

  


Better,  _this_  is better. This is a hell of a way to crush thoughts of sudden, burdening inadequacy—maybe she  _was_  just on a magical low, even though that makes absolutely no sense at all, and this will help. 

  


Also, as far as men go, Kaoru  _is_  very pretty. 

  


Rei’s back arches, her own fingers helping to reach back and yank open the strings of her corset, letting her breasts spill out with the next heave of her chest. Her thighs splay apart as Rei reaches for Kaoru’s shirt, yanking him between them and squeezing them about his hips. “You smell  _so_  good,” she breathes, eyes fluttering as she arches her neck, biting down into her own lower lip to keep from sinking her teeth into  _Kaoru._

  


“You smell like something that’s going to get me into trouble,” Kaoru murmurs, the sound coming out of his chest in a low rumble against her ear. He tosses the corset to the side with the ease of long practice, deftly unthreading the laces before tugging it free, immediately fastening his mouth to the swell of one breast, leaving kiss after red-stained kiss before sucking one pert nipple into his mouth.

  


Rei groans, the sound low and throaty as her back arches up, her fingers sliding back through Kaoru’s hair to yank and pull his mouth exactly where she wants it--and  _keep_  it there. The simmering, fluttery tell-tale of magic seeping through her veins making her toes curl with the electric force of it that starts to wrap around Kaoru as well. “I’m…pretty good at avoiding trouble, actually,” Rei gasps, raking a hand down Kaoru’s chest, reaching further south to grab at his laces. “But you’re going to give me this, or else.” 

  


Kaoru laughs against her breast, nibbling and sucking, rolling the nipple on his tongue as he reaches a hand down, giving her assistance where she clearly wants it most. He pulls himself out, then warningly sets his teeth on her nipple, raising an eyebrow. “Be good, sweetheart,” he says softly, eyes dancing as he draws a fingertip up her thigh. “Careful with your magic there, I can feel it snacking on me.”  _Don’t make me kill you before I get it in you._

  


Rei hisses out a breath through her teeth, shutting her eyes for a moment in a conscious attempt to stop slurping away on Kaoru when he  _does_  feel  _so_  good. “I’m trying,” she murmurs, skin twitching underneath the touch of Kaoru’s fingertips. “I’m not—feeding on you, sex magic isn’t like that, unless  _you_  let it be.” Rei shifts, hiking up her dress further. “You could let me, though. It might feel good.” 

  


“Mm, at a low, low cost, I’ll bet,” Kaoru says dryly, but he’s just a  _little_  too distracted to follow that train of thought to the end, when he can instead slide his hands up milky thighs, squeezing and rubbing and stroking them. One hand creeps up higher, a finger extending to trail up Reina’s slit, gently at first and then more eagerly. “Good girl, all wet and ready for me, aren’t you? Like you’re trying to suck me in down here…”

  


“A-ah—fuck—“ Not very ladylike, for sure, but the shock of overstimulation makes Rei shudder and twitch, twisting where she lays. She reaches down frantically to grab Kaoru’s wrist, stilling his hand for a moment as her chest heaves, eyes dark and dilated. “If you…keep touching me, I’m just gonna come,” she breathes, cheeks flushing hot. “In me—j-just get in me.” 

  


“You want me in you, love?” Kaoru shifts down, parting the rest of the lovely silky cloth clinging to her body, urging her thighs apart as he nestles down between them. “What part of me?” he asks, dipping his head down and giving a first, questing, experimental lick up her slit. 

  


Rei stuffs her fist against her mouth, sharp fangs pricking into her own knuckles to both stifle a breathless, ragged noise and bring a little flash of pain to keep her grounded, somehow. The rolling, tumultuous twist of her magic makes her vision spark, her legs splay helplessly apart, trembling with the drag of Kaoru’s tongue. “I—“ So much for having a silver tongue. Kaoru’s seems better right now, Rei dazedly thinks, sliding her other hand up to twist and pull at one of her own nipples. “J-just…do whatever you want…” 

  


Kaoru laughs gently, and presses a nipping kiss to the inside of one thigh before replacing his mouth with his hands, squeezing those sweet thighs as he starts to lap. His tongue flicks out, gently at first, then more eagerly, delving in deep before ticking up to circle that sweet little bud, drinking in the taste, the smell of her. “How long since someone has taken care of you properly, O Great Sex Wizard?” he teases, letting one finger slip inside, then curl towards himself, stroking over sensitive nerve endings. 

  


Rei’s lips part to  _maybe_  answer that coherently, but words fail, and her hips arch and jerk with a gasp before she manages to clamp a hand back over her mouth. The clench and spasm of muscles is impossible to control when Kaoru’s tongue  _and_  fingers go to work, and Rei hears herself whimper, that first orgasm lingering and leaving her toes curling into the sheets, calf muscles tight and shivering. The slick that coats Kaoru’s fingers and tongue leaves her feeling messier  _and_  even more overstimulated, and Rei groans, tossing her head back in time to catch a glimpse of flowers, tucked away in a vase in the corner of Kaoru’s room, start to get  _far_  too excited about throwing out roots and new growth in spite of being long-cut and dead. Whoops. “If you k-keep taking care of me...my magic’s going to get…weird,” she manages with a dazed little laugh. “Have mercy…” 

  


“Mercy?” Kaoru teases, pulling back to sit on his heels, letting his fingers continue when his mouth pauses. “Have mercy on my furniture, sweetheart, there’s some expensive stuff in here. What’ll happen if I give you what you want, hmm? You’re so hungry down here…”

  


“It’s not my f-fault if it starts growing again,” Rei groans, throwing an arm over her face as her legs fall open, hips slowly rocking down onto Kaoru’s fingers no matter how she begs for him to stop. “Put it  _in_ , I’m hungry  _everywhere_ …” 

  


Kaoru sighs, shuffling up to position himself, one hand guiding the head of his cock to drag up the wet, hot slit. “You sound like every evil creature my daddy warned me about, you know,” he murmurs, and presses a bruising kiss to Reina’s neck as he thrusts in, easing himself into that tight heat.

  


Rei’s breath catches in her chest, and she slings her arms around Kaoru’s neck, nails raking down his back as she arches up with a long, sated sigh. “And yet you’re still fucking me,” she gasps, eyes rolling back as her thighs close around Kaoru’s hips, squeezing tight, refusing to let him go once he starts sinking inside. Being  _full_ —finally,  _finally_ —makes her magic settle for the moment, simmering just underneath the surface, a hot, red coil eager for more. “I’m not…nhh…evil, just…just horny, ahh…fuck…you have a nice cock…” 

  


Kaoru laughs with hitching breath, eyes alight as he rocks in. His hands slip underneath Reina’s body, angling her for the best possible strokes inside her, tickling pleasure out of her with every easy thrust. “You don’t fuck like an evil demon,” he teases, nibbling on the creamy expanse of one pale shoulder, then stealing a kiss from dangerous, plush lips. “More like a fertile little nymph.”

  


Rei surges up, catching Kaoru’s mouth again for a deeper kiss, sucking on his tongue as he grinds down onto that perfect, thick cock that fits  _just_  inside of her. Her fangs prick at Kaoru’s lower lip, drawing the tiniest droplet of blood, and just the taste of that fills Rei’s mouth, leaving her to shudder and suck off that blood in short order. “T-that’s…a more accurate description, probably,” she pants out, her nails raking down Kaoru’s back, curling around his ass to squeeze and pull him in deeper. She squeezes down, rocks down, shuddering at the slick slide of his cock inside of her. “Please…” 

  


“Ooh, now you’ve got manners.” Kaoru’s eyes burn with hunger as he thrusts in, savoring that perfect sweet friction, the way she clenches down on him, milking his cock with every single pump of his hips. “You’re begging so sweet, love…what is it you want, hmm? Use your wo~ords…”

  


For a moment, Rei just whines, flopping flat onto her back again and letting her head fall back into the sprawl of her hair. Letting Kaoru just fuck into her feels good enough that she wishes it would last forever, or says her sex-addled mind, languid and overstimulated from magic working overtime. She shudders, biting into her own lower lip to keep back the incriminating sound of another climax that leaves her clenching down, shivering all the way down to her toes. “C….come in me…I want to feel it, please…” 

  


Kaoru’s mind seizes up for a moment— _can’t make a half-demon baby, that’s so much worse than neglecting my duties, can’t make something I’ll have to hunt_ —before clarity bursts through in his mind— _no, wait, wizards are infertile!_ —and he spills, giddy with ecstasy and relief all at once. “A-aahh, ah, sweetling, oh, shit, that was…ah, nnh, every last drop, yeah?”

  


The pleasant surge of magic mixes with how good it feels to be  _slick_  inside, and Rei’s nails dig into Kaoru’s skin, clinging to him as her vision blurs, going delightfully fuzzy at the edges. She sighs, shuddering as she sinks back, ignoring the little sparks of color across her eyes when she dares to open them, feeling only the low, satisfied rumble of power now tingling through her veins, and the warm aftermath of sex with a man that actually knows what he’s  _doing_  for a change. “Uh huh,” she breathes, sliding a hand up to absently pet Kaoru’s back. “Nnh…every…last drop…ahh, come here, let me kiss you…” 

  


Kaoru complies pleasantly, sucking and nibbling on one full red lip. “Hey, I lived through that,” he says with a lazy grin, absently palming one plump breast. “Thanks for my life. Mmm, and thanks for the meal, you’re delicious.”

  


“Told you I’m not going to eat you,” Rei murmurs, arching up with a gasp when just the touch of Kaoru’s hand alone makes her shiver anew. “B…be nice, it takes  _nothing_  to get me started again,” she moans, threading her arms around Kaoru’s neck to pull him down again. Her own mouth wanders, dragging down Kaoru’s throat, feeling the thud of his pulse beneath her lips, beneath her teeth—and she stops,  _barely_ , stifling a whimper in her throat. “S-seriously, I’m not good at stopping.” 

  


Kaoru’s laugh is a little startled, and he pins Reina down by the shoulders to the bed. “Careful, sweetheart, give a man a second to catch his breath. I’m only human, you know? It takes a minute.”

  


“If you keep fucking me, no holy sword is going to kill me,” Rei warns with a breathless laugh, letting her hands flop down to the bed in a boneless heap. “Keep that in mind if you want to keep your cock in me.” 

  


“Ah, I’m not sure how much I can trust a shapeshifting wizard demon’s infertility,” Kaoru says with a sigh, pulling free and flopping over on his back. “Now I don’t mind missing the party so much. You  _are_ a party.”

  


“I’m the most fun you’ll ever have, trust me.” Rei shuts her eyes, stretching out with a sated little shiver. Ignoring how the bed creaks from residual, escaping flutters of magic is best, especially when they’re certain to find a few sprouts here and there later. “I’m entirely infertile, don’t worry. This isn’t far from my natural form, but, well…” 

  


“So, what, more tentacles?”

  


“No, that’s a friend of mine. Less in the breast area, I’m afraid.” Rei adjusts one of them in question. “I don’t mind them, though. They’re fun to play with.” 

  


“Sounds like a Deepling, gross.”

  


“Hah! Please don’t compare me to that, I’m far more high bred.” Rei twists onto her side, plopping her chin into her hand. “My father was a human, my mother a succubus—I’m as gentle as a demon can get, quite honestly.” 

  


Kaoru twists as well, enough that he can reach out a hand and curl one tendril of Reina’s hair around his finger, twirling it gently. “And they sent you away for being so sweet and kind-natured, hmm?”

  


In spite of herself, Rei’s lower lip juts into a pout. “…You’re mocking me. I can tell you’re mocking me.” 

  


Kaoru grins. “I’ve just never met a demon that could be called gentle, is all. And my family lives up near the Shadowlands, so I’ve seen a lot more than your average debauched former holy knight.”

  


“My mother and brother  _both_  disagree with my methods of dealing with humans—which is to say, I’m the one that actively campaigns to keep the gates to the Shadowlands firmly shut, and to not allow demons to encroach into this world,” Rei wearily says. “The ghoul that was here—she was escaped from a nobleman’s collection. I frown upon that as well, but…there’s a reason why demons have the Shadowlands, and humans have…all of this. Intermingling isn’t wise. Even I know I can be too much for this place sometimes, and I’m a filthy human sympathizer.” 

  


“As a filthy human,” Kaoru says with an easy smile, snaking an arm around Reina’s waist and tugging her close, “I’m grateful. So, you’re supposed to be some kind of liaison? Or something? I didn’t know there were any working wizard demon kids. Or…let me guess. You’re older than your maidenly looks suggest.”

  


“I’m too old for you, definitely,” Rei cheerfully says, flopping an arm around Kaoru’s shoulders again. “And, ah, I have a special contract with the Academy. I told you, I’m a Nightcloak, in spite of that…weird thing that happened earlier.” 

 

Kaoru shrugs. “Nightcloak, Afternoon Panties, it’s all the same to me. You know, my family thinks that the whole institution of human mages is newfangled and creepy? Dad always says they’re acting above their station, like paladins have a monopoly on making sure people don’t get killed.”

 

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s creepy, too.” 

 

Rei presses her face into Kaoru’s neck, breathing in the scent of him slowly. “There needs to be a system in place, but this one…is very questionable, and not altogether kind, to those involved. Ah, sorry, this is terrible pillow talk, isn’t it?”

 

Kaoru grins suddenly. “Are you kidding? You’re the first woman I’ve ever cuddled with that I could actually tell about myself, you think that’s not awesome?”

 

Rei pauses, opening her mouth to make a quip about that, and then decides not to. “Quite a delinquent you are, then. And here I thought you made a habit of bedding demons.”

 

“Ehh? A delinquent? How mean, I think you should be telling me I’m a dashing rogue.”

 

“You certainly have a way about you. And I will admit, I did enjoy looking at your ass when you fought.”

 

“Wow, I think I need to complain to the Academy, this is definitely some kind of sexual harrassment.”

 

“Complain all you like, they expect it from me.” Rei nestles up close. “You’re even charming enough that I’ll stay the night.”

 

“Heh, I’ll believe it when I wake up and you’re still here. You sure you aren’t the kind of demon that vanishes as soon as the lights dim?”

 

“I’m the kind of demon that sticks around longer when it’s dark.” Rei stretches with a yawn stifled into Kaoru’s chest, settling in for the night. Maybe this is a stupid choice, but Kaoru is warm and comfortable, and it’s not like a paladin can do any real damage to her in this state. “Maybe I’ll even wake you up with something nice in the morning.”

 

“I like nice things,” Kaoru murmurs, and presses a kiss to Reina’s temple. “Sleep on my chest, and experience life like a real High Harbor maiden.”

 

“Is that an experience that involves you specifically?” Rei drowsily murmurs, shifting to do just that. “Sleep well, Sir Knight.”

 

Being fastidious about covering windows at night is Rei’s usual modus operandi, but being terribly distracted the night prior, it’s an easy thing to forget. Thus, sun pours in with the first light, leaving Rei to wince and stretch, rolling away from Kaoru’s still-sleeping form.

 

Rei draws the curtains closed, stretching with a sigh. In the middle of the night, kicking his way out of lingering, clinging dress layers was a natural process…as well as shifting back to his natural form, which is what he flops back into bed with as well, all long legs (longer legs), and much shorter cropped hair. Kaoru can choose to complain about this later, if he wants, but Rei carelessly throws an arm around him for now.

 

“Mm, you smell good,” Kaoru says drowsily, curling around the warm form in his arms, pressing a sleepy kiss to Rei’s neck. “I want another taste when you wake up.”

 

“Oh, do you?” Rei murmurs, turning his head to nuzzle into Kaoru’s hair, tongue snaking out to idly trace the curve of his ear. “I’m up. High Harbor is just too sunny for me…”

 

Kaoru freezes.

 

That isn’t the dulcet tones of the lovely lady he’d gone to bed with, but the low rumble of a _man_ , and his eyes fly open. “Yrggyhh!” he yelps, scrambling back and falling on his ass on the stone floor. “Who—“

 

Rei doesn’t even blink. “You _really_ don’t recognize me.” He props his chin into one hand, raising his eyebrows. “I know you realized I was a shapeshifter last night, and my favorite female form doesn’t look so far off from this.”

 

“You’re a _man_ now!” Kaoru protests, scuttling back on his hands. “That’s—that’s different than just changing your shape!”

 

“Is it? Ah, perhaps the paladin understanding of a shapeshifter is a bit different than how we realize it…”

 

Kaoru glares. “What in the hells? Why would you want to take girl form? Just to—you wanted—was it—what was it?”

 

“I was tracking that ghoul. She was hunting the skin of women. I was trying to lure her out.” Rei blinks, his head tilting. “You should come back to bed, that floor is cold.”

 

Carefully, Kaoru climbs back on the bed, looking warily at the man in his bed. “I don’t go to bed with men.”

 

“You just climbed into bed with me.” Rei’s lips curl into a slow smile, and he reaches over, running a painted fingertip down Kaoru’s chest. “If it makes you feel better, that happens to a lot of men.”

 

“Yeah? Yeah!” Kaoru seizes onto that. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it, it’s your magic. Because you’re a sex wizard.”

 

“You told me that your kind was immune to sex magic. Which, I might add,” Rei mildly continues, “only works if you consent.”

 

Kaoru scowls at him, and folds his arms. “You’re the worst. My dick just remembers your pussy, all right? Is it….is it still there?” he asks, a little hopeful.

 

“No. It isn’t. But I’ve been told my dick tastes the same.”

 

“Bullshit. Your pussy tasted like honeysuckle, that was the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

 

“Thank you. I’m fairly certain my cock is similar, though. You’re welcome to find out—or I’d happily return the favor from last night, or you can put it in, whatever…” Rei flutters a hand, now openly amused. “You’re aroused right now. It has a very particular scent, you know.”

 

Kaoru pouts. He’s a grown man, a holy paladin, and a shining knight of the forces of heaven, but he does feel himself pout at that. “Cheating. No fair. And there’s no _way_ your…ugh, can’t you just make it a pussy again? I miss it already.”

 

“Have you ever been with a man?” Rei asks, curious rather than judgmental. “I know this backwards country has questionable laws, but that’s the Capital, not High Harbor itself…”

 

Kaoru makes a face. “It isn’t the law that’s the problem, or Capital fashions,” he says warily. “I just don’t like men. Girls are…ah, gods, the heavens were made for girls.”

 

“Uh huh. You’re still turned on just by me being in your bed. Maybe that’s not fair, I know I don’t look _that_ different than my lady form…” Rei flops over onto his back, heaving a sigh. “And here I was going to suck you off. Well, if you really don’t like men…”

 

Kaoru folds his arms over his chest. “Stop cheating,” he warns, “or I won’t be nice. Where have you been hanging out, that people don’t mind it when you read their emotions and don’t punch you in the face for it?”

 

“The Academy,” Rei sweetly answers, and curls a finger in a come hither motion. “You don’t have to be nice to me.”

 

Kaoru reaches out, grabbing Rei’s wrist and holding it firmly, eyes stern. “Quit reading me. If you can’t, quit telling me about it. You want to get in my good graces, stop using magic without consent.”

 

Rei pauses, then curls his fingers, his eyes lidding as he slumps back. “Fair enough. My apologies, that was rude of me. I’m afraid I haven’t been around civilized humans for some time and I’ve picked up a few bad manners. If you’re truly uncomfortable, I’ll leave.”

 

Kaoru casts an eye on Rei, tapping a finger against his wrist. “As opposed to?” he asks, finally. “Aren’t you just here to catch the ghoul? She’s dead, right?”

 

“She’s dead,” Rei confirms, his eyes sliding to where Kaoru’s fingers touch him. That’s distracting, unfortunately. “But now that _that’s_ handled, I have some free time. Also, I don’t particularly want to go back to the Academy yet, and I enjoy your company.”

 

“Uh huh.” Kaoru raises an eyebrow. “I might not see eye to eye with my family, wizard, but I haven’t forgotten the things they taught me, either. At least, not all of the things they taught me. You want something from me, right?”

 

“Mm? Now who’s the rude one,” Rei sighs, letting his head roll back as he glances aside. “I have a name, you know, and it isn’t ‘wizard.’ It’s Rei. If I want anything, it’s more sex, I’m still on a low. High Harbor puts out a lot less than the Capital, did you know that? I think it’s the closeted shame.”

 

“So…” Kaoru cocks his head to the side, and finally releases Rei’s wrist. “How was I supposed to know about that? You never even told me your real name, I thought you were Reina.” His eyes flick down, to Rei’s sadly flat chest. “You’re definitely the prettiest guy I met, but maybe I’m just remembering last night, hmm.”

 

“I’ve heard that before. But I look almost exactly the same, minus breasts and plus a cock.” Rei watches him, then heaves a sigh, flopping his head back. “Right, I’ll go ahead and be honest. You saved my life last night, so now I’m in your debt. I dislike being in anyone’s debt, so we can settle this quickly if you want another roll about and I spoil the hell out of you. Otherwise, name another thing that you desire.”

 

“Heeeeeey, wait a second, how come you’re the one that would get to eat all my sexy energy, but that’s supposed to be _my_ reward?” Kaoru asks, flopping back against the bed. “If you wanna make it up to me, I’m easy. Bring the tits back.”

 

“I don’t _eat_ your energy,” Rei replies, aghast. “That’s…that’s not how sex magic works, I’m not a succubus. Do you _really_ need the tits to get off?”

 

“You’re hundreds of years old,” Kaoru says, baffled, “and you’ve never met a man who prefers women before?”

 

“Preference is one thing, but I’ve been told only enjoying _one_ and not the other is…unusual.”

 

“Eh? Really? I thought most people only did…I’ve only heard of deviants and shadow creatures liking all kinds, you know?”

 

“Ahah, well…that’s not entirely true, either. I, for example…”

 

“You’re a shadow creature, aren’t you? Like, right? You’re from the shadowlands?”

 

“I mean, yes…”

 

“So, you’re kinda not…disproving my point, right? No offense, I just, well, it’s not like I can totally forget everything my family taught me, heh.” Kaoru shoves the hair out of his face. “You really want to make it up to me?”

 

“You’re insinuating I like both sexes, love,” Rei sighs, twisting onto his side and plopping his cheek down into one hand as he gazes over at Kaoru. “Which isn’t proving your point at all. Anyway, yes, I’d love to make it up to you. I’m sort of obligated by nature.”

 

“Excellent.” Kaoru extends his hand, palm-up. “Stay in High Harbor for a little while. I’ve been picking up some weird energy, not just ghouls. Something’s brewing. I could use you.”

 

Rei’s head cocks before he nods, reaching out his hand to take Kaoru’s. “By all means. Oh—it doesn’t concern the Wavebred, does it?”

 

“Not unless they’re the ones making trouble, and I don’t think they are,” Kaoru says with a shrug. “Don’t get on my case about the Deeplings, you’ve never had to clean up little baby child bones after they eviscerated a holdout of kids hiding from a tidal surge.”

 

“I have nothing to get on your case about. I have one friend amongst them, _one_ , and that should tell you my opinions. I was just curious.” It would be very easy to start playing with Kaoru’s nipples. Rei has to pause, and forcibly _not_ do that. “Just demons being demons, then? I can handle that. I probably should. You seem a bit…estranged?”

 

“Just warning you, if I knew for sure what was happening and who was causing it, I wouldn’t have asked for help,” Kaoru says frankly. “It could be anything.”

 

“I’m sure I can handle it. Though I’ll definitely need to top off if I’m going to be dealing with unknown, powerful entities that want to destroy us all…”

 

“Rrrrright. But you’re totally not feeding on my sex energy.”

 

“That’s _not_ how it works, for the last time.”

 

“But you haven’t given me a single reason to believe you,” Kaoru finally snaps, losing his patience. “I’ve heard about you people all my life, and just because you keep telling me it’s not like that, I’m supposed to believe you? Over every single person that raised me? Even though you just keep smirking and not telling me how it supposedly _does_ work?”

 

“Do you feel drained or otherwise more exhausted than you otherwise would after a night of killing demons and having sex?” Rei growls back, shoving himself up onto an elbow to glower at Kaoru. “No? Then take that at face value, please. Demons and sex wizards are mutually exclusive things; there’s nothing demonic about the way that I use sex magic, it’s the same as any other wizard capable of that would. Sex is a means to generate and store power, and it’s from the _act_ of it, not from any _feeding_ on other people. I can’t even _get_ anything from having sex unless _you’re_ also an active, willing participant, which you were. Do you want to ward me to prove it?”

 

Kaoru’s face darkens, and he straightens up, instinctively letting his eyes flick towards his chest of holy weapons, everything he’d tried so hard to put away. “You know an awful lot about my folk, but I don’t know anything about you, I never studied any of this. I never _liked_ any of this, I just want to surround myself with beautiful, gentle things as long as I can, but everything in this stupid, cold, ugly world keeps forcing its way into my life, all right?”

 

Rei’s lips part, a round of dismissive scolding on his tongue. _If you don’t know anything, how dare you even begin to assume I’m part of the problem?_ Instead, he draws in a slow breath, shutting his eyes for a moment, then opens his eyes again, and extends a hand, brushing a thumb across Kaoru’s cheek. “I know what any demon knows about paladins,” Rei honestly says. “That they’re dangerous, and cruel, and don’t want to listen. I understand not wanting to be involved in anything with your family; believe me, I do. But—I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I don’t see the point.”

 

Kaoru’s sudden burst of resolve stutters, then dissolves completely, leaving him feeling as drained as if he’d been in a shouting match with his father. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, shifting closer and leaning against Rei’s hand, despite the fact that Rei is a _man_. “Where my family’s concerned, I get all…messed up, I guess. That’s family, right?”

 

“Indeed, it seems to be,” Rei softly says, stroking his thumb slowly across Kaoru’s cheek as he slings his other arm around Kaoru’s shoulders, tugging him closer. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Perhaps we should start from the beginning, instead of assuming things and causing silly misunderstandings.”

 

Kaoru gives him a wry, but relieved smile. “Thanks. I’d like that. Hi. I’m Kaoru. I’m technically a Paladin of the White Holy Order, but I’ve been on a semi-permanent vacation here for five years. I fill my days with parties and pretty ladies, and try to keep as many of them safe as I can. Nice to meet you.”

 

“…And, unfortunately for you, I’m Rei of the Sakuma name—son of Airi of the Sakuma name, the Demon Queen, Ruler of the Shadowlands—current heir-apparent, so that makes me Prince Rei of the Shadowlands. I’d prefer to be known as the wizard Rei, Nightcloak, but even that name these days is a little…” Rei flutters a hand, running his fingers through Kaoru’s hair. “Perhaps don’t tell your father either way. Nice to meet you.”

 

The fingers in Kaoru’s hair feel good, and he closes his eyes briefly, licking his lips. “It’s probably just that you still smell like you did last night,” he mutters. “I’ve never in my life wanted to enjoy a man’s company before, not like this.”

 

“Probably,” Rei offers with a soft laugh, his fingers dragging slowly across Kaoru’s scalp. “I _do_ try to make a point of being pleasant company for men, however. Women are the fairer sex, but unfortunately, my cock disagrees.”

 

“Wow, my dick would _never_ get along with yours,” Kaoru says with a laugh. “They couldn’t be friends. That’s all right, he has plenty of friends. Is it, like, hard for you to shift? Do conditions have to be right?”

 

“Mmnn…it costs a fair amount of magic,” Rei allows, running a finger down the back of Kaoru’s neck. “Would it really never get along with mine? You said it yourself, you’ve never found another man attractive until me. I’m willing to be an exception rather than a rule.”

 

“You still smell like pussy! What if the smell fades while we’re kissing or something and I throw up? I wouldn’t want to do that to you!”

 

“…It won’t,” Rei says, amused, “because I think that’s just…pheromones, not anything in particular. But I wouldn’t hold it against you, if you decided it wasn’t for you half-way through.”

 

Kaoru stares at him for a long minute, then shrugs, and flops back onto the bed. “What the hell. My family would execute me for what we’ve already done anyway. Might as well ride every attraction at the festival. Work your magic, wizard-cum-shadow creature.”

 

“Is that a technical term that pretty holy knights use?” Rei asks with a snort of laughter, raking his bangs out of his face. “Do you want a _guaranteed_ way of enjoying this?”

 

“I always say yes to guaranteed pleasure,” Kaoru assures him. There’s a surge of nervousness, knowing that he’s about to let a man touch him, but Rei is stunning, even without tits, though Kaoru would never admit it.

 

Rei’s lips part, and his tongue runs over the tips of bright white fangs that glint in the room’s low light. “Remember how I said I didn’t feed via sex? I can another way, and it’s…mm, well, a known aphrodisiac.”

 

“Oh? And what do I have to…you know, give up?” He’s going to be tainted, he knows it, and it’s terrifying that at the moment, he doesn’t care at all.

 

“Blood.” Rei beams, sliding a hand up the inside of Kaoru’s thigh. “It’s just a little bite. I’m gentle, and I won’t take a lot, and everyone’s always told me how good it feels.”

 

“How does it make _me_ feel good if you’re taking it away from me?” Kaoru asks suspiciously. “You’re putting something back into me, aren’t you?”

 

“…A little bit of venom. But it feels good! And it goes away after about an hour, it’s nothing permanent.”

 

Kaoru’s mouth quirks up. “Then bite me, demon, and make sure it’s good. Is it like being drunk? I like being drunk.”

 

“It’s like being high.” Rei’s lips twitch, and he dives down, pressing a kiss to the inside of Kaoru’s knee, then up to the inside of his thigh, sucking on the soft skin there, right above the thud of pulse that he can feel so easily underneath his tongue. “High off of some of the sweeter things this country has to offer…mnn…I’ve been smelling this since last night…”

 

He bites down, his fangs sinking easily into Kaoru’s skin, and the taste of blood floods Rei’s mouth, making him groan. His eyes flutter shut as he drinks, each slow swallow helping him to savor it more before he draws back, tongue dragging over the tiny pinprick of a wound to seal it shut.

 

Fresh, glittery pleasure spills into Kaoru’s body, rippling through his veins in eager, heady pulses, and Kaoru lets his head fall back, hissing through his teeth as his toes curl. “Ah…Rei…ooh, is it supposed to be like that? That’s nice, that’s nice…” He starts giggling, reaching down absently to start palming his own cock, feeling it steadily stiffen. “ _Really_ nice, heh…”

 

“Told you,” Rei breathes, licking his lips for a last, lingering taste of that sweet blood before he lurches up, mouth closing over the arch of Kaoru’s throat next. “If you just relax…I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, sucking on the skin when Kaoru’s throat bobs, his fingers teasingly sliding up to gently twist a nipple between thumb and forefinger.

 

Kaoru’s nipples aren’t usually terribly sensitive, but right now _every_ part of him feels incredibly sensitive, eager to respond to the slightest stimulus. His back arches, and he parts his legs, cradling Rei between them, sliding his hands down the other man’s back. “Feels weird,” he laughs, eyes dancing. “Feels so weird, I thought it would feel like a girl with little tits but it _doesn’t_ , not at all.”

 

“No? Mm, too solid, I imagine,” Rei says with a grin, kissing his way up to Kaoru’s mouth, which he takes with an eager swipe of his tongue, dragging the tip of it against the roof of Kaoru’s mouth. His own cock rubs down, dragging against Kaoru’s as he rocks against him slowly. “We don’t have to do anything…that you don’t want,” he rumbles. “Just this is fine. But if you give me free rein, I’d happily eat you alive.”

 

“Fuck it,” Kaoru says, mind spinning happily into the atmosphere. Everything is sweet pleasure, and he readily rocks up against Rei’s cock, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of a thick hard cock against his own. Just now, none of Kaoru’s usual arguments seem to make sense, and everything just feels _good_. “Do whatever feels best, I want it, I _want_ it.”

 

Rei exhales a pleased, throaty groan, sucking on the side of his neck as he rubs down, sliding a hand between them to curl his fingers around both of their cocks, stroking slowly as they move. “Then…you should let me fuck you,” he breathes into Kaoru’s ear, nipping gently on the lobe. “If you’re going to be with someone like me…you might as well ride every ride, mm?”

 

“Might as well!” Kaoru grins, and brings up a finger to Rei’s mouth, tracing over the line of his lips. “Only one condition…you have to be, ah, as good at doing me, as I was at doing you last night.”

 

“What if I’m better?” Rei nips gently at that finger, then licks the tip of it before sucking it into his mouth with a low, hungry sound. “If you want this all the time…you can’t blame me.”

 

“You’d _better_ be better,” Kaoru murmurs, letting Rei suck that fingertip in, pushing it into his mouth, watching his cheeks hollow out. “All those centuries of practice, right, Demon Lord? Or Prince, or whatever?”

 

Rei hums low in his throat, lifting a hand to push his hair back from his face as he sucks that finger into his mouth, dragging his tongue along the length of it with a hitching breath escaping through his nose. He releases it with a wet, slick pop, licking his lips after the fact. “You make it sound like I’m cheating, when you phrase it like that,” he sighs, pressing a fleeting kiss to Kaoru’s mouth before he slides down, lips immediately pressing to the tip of Kaoru’s cock, and his tongue quick to follow with a wet, warm lap.

 

“F-far from it,” Kaoru says, toes twitching as Rei’s tongue starts to work on turning his brain to mush, making his spine arc with electricity. “Or, I m-mean, sure, you’re cheating, please cheat more, it, um, seems to be working for you juuuuust fine…”

 

Rei snorts out an amused huff of breath, and grabs for Kaoru’s hand, guiding it swiftly to his hair as his lips close around the head of his cock, sucking it into his mouth with an eager little groan and an even more eager swipe of his tongue over the tip, thoroughly tasting the musky drip of precome. He supposes he doesn’t _hate_ converting Kaoru to the idea that men give better blowjobs (they do, obviously).

 

Kaoru has the fleeting, ridiculous thought that his father might change his mind about a lot of things, if he had the chance to experience a demon’s mouth at this level. The image is so stupid that he has to bite back a snort, hands dropping to tangle in Rei’s dark, silky hair. “You’re as good as a girl at that,” he murmurs, rocking gently up into Rei’s mouth, urging him to take more. “Better than some, even…maybe even most, wow, holy—“

 

Rei’s lips twitch at the corners at that before he follows the tug of Kaoru’s hand effortlessly, swallowing him down with a breathy sigh through his nose. His cheeks hollow when Kaoru’s cock hits the back of his throat, and he swallows hard, tongue stroking and licking at Kaoru’s cock as his fingers splay over Kaoru’s thighs, a thumb absently stroking over the spot where he’d bitten affectionately as he works. _You taste good in two locations, congratulations._

 

Kaoru starts to drift.

 

His mind detaches slightly from his body, until he’s floating in a cloud of heady pleasure, looking down at his own body, eagerly writhing beneath a demon prince. His parents would be so disappointed, and that thought just makes his thighs tense, makes him rut up harder against Rei’s mouth. He might have some issues, but at least he feels good _now_ , at least he can have Rei’s mouth _now_ , even if there’ll be (possibly literal) hell to pay later. “You’re so good at that,” he hears himself say, dreamy and floating. “Good…tongue. Long.”

 

Rei pulls off with a long, wet suck, licking his lips as he watches Kaoru through lidded eyes for a moment. “You’re not allowed to pass out yet,” he teases, shivering as shifting reminds him of how hard he is between his own legs, and how his blood won’t _stop_ thundering in his ears. “I’m still playing with you. Mm, is that oil on your bedside table? Hand it over.”

 

“I’m not passing out,” Kaoru protests, wriggling up and twisting to grab the oil, carefully passing over the little pitcher. “Heh, I could never keep something like that by my bed, back at home in the Hinterlands. Some girls need it, you know? You didn’t, you were all…juicy, it was so nice. Honeysuckle, I’ve got to get some honeysuckle oil.”

 

“Uh huh.” Rei presses a kiss to the inside of Kaoru’s thigh as he tips the oil over into his hand, letting it drip and warm over his fingers. “Ever had a girl do this to you?” he asks, honestly curious as he lets a single finger drag against Kaoru’s hole. “I’ve heard some men still enjoy it quite a bit, even if they aren’t interested in other men…”

 

Kaoru licks his lips, letting the tip of his tongue linger outside of his mouth for a long minute before he sucks it back in. “I like it,” he finally says, because it looks like Rei is going to figure that much out anyway. “Girls have the cutest, littlest hands, though, but hey, at least you don’t have long nails!”

 

“Finely curated for this very reason,” Rei sweetly says, and pauses just long enough for Kaoru to inhale before he lets that finger sink inside—far more easily than he expects, though the oil, slick and slippery as it is, certainly helps. His breath hitches at how tight Kaoru feels inside, that slick clench of muscles making him press his finger deeper, and curl it back towards himself eagerly. “My fingers are nice and _long_ , though…makes it easier to reach all the best places…”

 

“B-best places? Heh, I just thought it was like a girl, you know, it feels good because it’s nice to fill a hole, but—nnneeep!”

 

The strangled yelp that forces its way out of Kaoru’s mouth is loud enough to echo around the room, and Kaoru loses track of himself for a disorienting moment, until he realizes what he’s seeing is the ceiling, and he’d hit his back immediately when white-hot pleasure had suddenly unfurled inside his belly. “Do that again,” he demands, sweat curling at the base of his neck. “Do it again, don’t stop, just keep going—“

 

“It’s better than _just_ filling a hole,” Rei says with a little laugh, wetting his lower lip hungrily as he watches the way Kaoru’s back arches, the way his hips move, the way sweat breaks out over his skin. He twists his wrist slowly, pressing and rubbing in that same spot, taking his sweet time fucking Kaoru with one finger as he leans down to press his mouth back to the head of Kaoru’s cock, licking and sucking at the tip when it leaks over his stomach.

 

“Suuuuuure is,” Kaoru says dreamily, letting his eyes fog over, reaching down to rub his stomach, as if he can touch Rei’s fingers through that thin barrier. “How’s it feel to you? As good as a pussy, or not even close? Ah, nnn, you’ve gotta—do that again, though…”

 

“Wouldn’t know,” Rei says, licking a droplet off the tip of Kaoru’s cock. “I’ve never had my fingers inside of a woman. But I think you feel—“ He draws his hand back slightly, enough to wriggle a second finger inside next to the first one. “Like you’re meant for this. Nice and hot and tight…” His fingers spread apart, stretching that tight hole.

 

“Ooh, that’s, that’s more, isn’t it?” Kaoru asks, giddy and over-stimulated, hands curling in his own bedsheets. “Damn, Rei, just—ooh, that’s actually kind of nice, now that I’m used to it? Am I supposed to, uh, do anything? Or just lay here?”

 

“You can do more in a minute—for now, just…lie back and relax.”

 

Rei leans back, his fingers working a moment longer before sliding out. He reaches for the oil instead, letting it drip and pool into his hand, swiping it down the long, thick length of his cock. “This is a lot more,” he murmurs, reaching for one of Kaoru’s hands and dragging it down to wrap around his cock. “But I think you’ll like it. If anything hurts, though…you can tell me, and I’ll stop.”

 

“Spoken like someone…who’s never been through training with my father,” Kaoru says, amused, and wraps his fingers around the pulsing cock in his hand, head tilting to the side. “Huh. Not as gross as I thought.”

 

“I think I’m a bit more sympathetic than your father,” Rei says with a breathless laugh, dropping forward onto his hands as he leans up to steal Kaoru’s mouth in a kiss, his cock twitching between Kaoru’s fingers. “Mmnn…when you touch it like that…that feels nice,” he sighs, eyes lidded. “You have nice hands.”

 

“Not too rough? I know girls like this kind of thing, but I’ve never done it on a guy before.” Kaoru is mildly entranced, letting his fingers dance up and down the hard shaft. “Can I, like, learn to do this on myself? You feel so good…”

 

“It’s harder to hit the right…nn…angles, I think,” Rei gasps, eyes flicking down when Kaoru’s thumb drags over the sensitive head of his cock. He pulses within Kaoru’s hold, dripping onto his stomach. “If you…have no complaints, I’m going to put it in you— _that_ you definitely can’t do yourself, heh.”

 

Kaoru lifts his head, looking at Rei with a raised eyebrow. “You think I’m about to stop you now? When it feels like this? Just do it, if you wait I’ll change my mind.”

 

“Good,” Rei cheerfully says, grinning as he hikes one of Kaoru’s legs up and over his shoulder. “Then keep that in mind when you’re stuffed full, pretty knight.”

 

He eases the head of his cock to that slick, tight hole, and doesn’t wait, lest Kaoru _really_ start to change his mind. That first, aching press forward makes him grit his teeth, his eyes fluttering as he has to _work_ to get the head inside, firm, steady pressure finally making it pop inside. The tightness takes his breath away, and Rei’s fingers grip Kaoru’s hips tightly, hard enough to leave fingerprints behind.

 

Kaoru makes a strangled, startled noise in his chest, ripped out of him by the sudden mind-numbing stretch of a thick cock inside of him for the first time. His lungs feel like they’re working faster than ever, and he has wild thoughts of how stupid and careless he is, thinking he can handle something so incredibly huge. “That, ah, wow, that doesn’t feel like your fingers at _all_ , you know? Heh…heheh….wow….ahh….holy…”

 

“Try…to relax,” Rei breathes, his own self-control fraying as he rocks in slowly, trying not to go too fast as he bends forward, mouth closing around one of Kaoru’s nipples to gently bite down. He sucks on it before mouthing his way up to Kaoru’s throat, sucking on the skin and inhaling deeply, smelling the thud of Kaoru’s pulse, his sweat, his _blood_ just below the surface—

 

He bites down again, unable to help himself, and his hands curl around Kaoru’s ass, hefting up his hips, pulling him onto his cock another few centimeters as he stifles the groan welling up from his chest into Kaoru’s skin. 

 

“A-ah, that’s non-consensu—fuck it, do it again,” Kaoru groans, wrapping his legs around Rei’s waist, rocking with him with every bite and thrust. “Do me…slow,” he slurs, licking his lips, letting his spine undulate with each movement. “Make me feel, nnh, make me feel every single…every part of it, please…”

 

The blood Rei swallows is just a tiny mouthful, but it’s enough to make him shiver down to his toes as he releases Kaoru’s throat, tongue dragging over the skin in the wake of his teeth. “That’s…the idea,” he breathes, his fingers squeezing, kneading as he grinds in slowly, licking his lips when he finally feels himself slide in further, _almost_ all the way. “Ahh…that’s it…good boy, you’re being so good for me.” Rei surges forward, planting a hand next to Kaoru’s head as he fucks in harder, but no faster, taking his time. “See? Told you…you were made for this…” 

 

“Feels good.” Kaoru’s cock surges and pulses, his abdomen fluttering, tense, and hungry. “Feels like—nnh, I like how deep you are, that’s nice, I thought I’d hate this…” Instead of pain, Kaoru feels like he’s being stirred up, like some dormant pleasure deep inside him is being awakened into a beast. “I’m gonna laugh at any girl that says this hurts, huh?”

 

“Maybe they’re just…a bit more delicate?” Rei settles upon with a breathless laugh, and the next thrust leaves him bottoming out inside, gritting his teeth as their skin slaps and sticks together, and he scoots his knees closer, changing the angle, making it easier to thrust in. “Mm…how’s that?” he breathlessly asks. “You’re taking all of it.” 

 

“I guess I’m _great_ at it,” Kaoru groans, though that last surge inside of him makes him squeak, thighs tightening involuntarily, as if he’s going to shove Rei away. “H-hold on, just, just pause for a minute, it’s really full right now, that’s—just…nn—“

 

Rei does as he’s told, even though the effort it takes to stay still makes his thighs tremble, his back taught and arms trembling. “It’s a lot, I know,” he pants out, holding still, even as he presses kisses to Kaoru’s mouth, to his neck, to his forehead. “You’re doing…so well. Just ride it out, yeah?” 

 

Kaoru blinks slowly, trying to get the world back into some focus. The dreamy sleepiness of the bite has mostly faded, leaving him breathing fast, reaching down to grab his own thighs, pulling them farther apart. “Maybe, um, a little bit m-more oil?”

 

“Already on it.” Rei shifts, pulling out halfway as he does, careful and slow as he reaches for the oil, tipping the rest of it over onto his cock. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, smoothing a hand over Kaoru’s cock, stroking his thumb over the tip. “Just try and enjoy yourself.” 

 

The slickness of the oil helps, making Kaoru sigh and relax, letting his nails drag gently down Rei’s back. “You’re, ah, doing a pretty good job…of making me think men might not be too bad. Nnh, it makes me mad that guys really are better at touching them like that…”

 

“It’s almost like we touch our own all the time,” Rei teasingly says, bending low to suck on Kaoru’s lower lip, his tongue running over the swollen flesh as he rocks in again slowly. “Goes in a lot easier now, huh…” His fingers squeeze around Kaoru’s cock, stroking from root to tip. “You can grab and claw me however you like—I—mmn—like having marks later—“ 

 

“Like you couldn’t just—heal them?” Kaoru asks, a smile in his voice, even as he wraps his legs more tightly around Rei’s waist. “Forget that, forget it, you move better when both of your hands are on the bed.” 

 

He leans up, and presses a hard kiss to Rei’s mouth, just as soft as it was when Rei had tits. “I can get a handie any time, just fuck me.”

 

Rei exhales a laugh against Kaoru’s mouth, his hands sliding back down to the bed. “Don’t stop me this time, then,” he breathes, sucking on Kaoru’s tongue as he rocks his way in again, the deep, slick slide of his cock striking in deeper this time. The head of his cock rubs into the slick walls of Kaoru’s ass, the hard, aching pulse of his cock leaving him breathless. 

 

Kaoru’s mind fizzles blank again, this time from sheer pleasure instead of from Rei’s bite. The thick head of that cock is driving into him, teaching him the shape of it, inflaming him with every hard thrust. “H-harder…” he breathes, grabbing his own thighs, yanking them up and apart, letting Rei slam in even deeper, even if it makes his ass clench involuntarily. “H-harder—nnh! That’s—that’s good, that’s good, that’s—right there, if this is what it’s like with a man, I might—nnh—“

 

“—might wanna do it again?” Rei taunts with a breathless laugh, his own cheeks flushing as he thrusts in harder, the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh stealing his own breath each time. The head of his cock bumps and rubs against something textured deep inside, and Rei shifts, hiking Kaoru’s hips up further when he ruts in to hit that spot _again_. “You…nhh…look so good like this,” he pants out, his eyes lidded and dark as he just _enjoys_ , the heady pull of magic an afterthought this time when Kaoru feels so good.

 

It takes Kaoru by surprise, even with the slowly building pleasure, even with Rei stirring him up inside, even with the way his cock is as hard as possible. It takes him by surprise, and he cries out, clawing at Rei’s back as he spills, over and over, painting their stomachs. “That’s it, that’s it, right there, that’s—shit, that’s good—“

 

Rei bends forward over him, planting a hand next to his head as he thrusts in through the clenching, the spasming around him, his own breath hot and fast against Kaoru’s neck. “I know, love, I know,” he groans, his head knocking down against Kaoru’s shoulder. “You’re so good—coming on my cock l-like you—love it—“ 

 

He spills with a low, rasping growl, biting down into his own lower lip to keep from biting Kaoru again as he pulses inside of him, leaving Kaoru full and slick. “You—ahh…gods, you’re so good,” he groans, slumping forward and pressing a heated kiss to Kaoru’s mouth. 

 

Kaoru kisses back, deep and long and slow, nibbling and sucking on Rei’s pretty lips. “If it was something like this,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering, nails sinking into Rei’s back, “I’d do it all the time. Only with you, though, only with you, it’s only going to be like this with you, I can, ah, I can feel it…”

 

“Every other man is going to be terrible compared to me,” Rei reveals with a breathy sigh, kissing Kaoru again as he shifts, his fingers flexing against the bed. “So just…mmn…stick to me…ah, I’m going to pull out…or else you shifting like that is going to get me started again…” 

 

“Pull out,” Kaoru says immediately, wincing as the pressure inside of him starts to turn more sour than sweet. “Whoo, you’re a big one, aren’t you?”

 

“My apologies,” Rei says with a laugh, slowly easing himself out, wincing a bit himself at the sting. “Ah, that’s a lot…” he absently says, flopping slowly to the side, watching the little motes of color that float across his vision. “Fucking holy knights, apparently, means a very nice magical recharge…” 

 

“Mm, is that nice?” Kaoru asks, intrigued. “Do I taste different, is that how it works?”

 

“You certainly taste different, but…” Rei flutters a languid hand. “I think it’s because you came so hard. Guess I’m doing something right.” 

 

“And magically?” Kaoru starts to roll over onto his side, then stops, just flopping onto his back. “Is it really any different? What does it feel like, that recharge thing?”

 

“Like I could blow up the whole world,” Rei blissfully says. “Don’t worry. I won’t. It just feels good. Being on a low…feels like I haven’t eaten for weeks. Headaches. Shivering. It’s no good.” 

 

“You went through all of that for one ghoul, huh?” Kaoru reaches down, dragging a fingertip through the cooling mess on his belly. “Just to protect some random citizens of a city you aren’t even from?”

 

“Told you I was a failure of a demon,” Rei blithely says, shutting his eyes and slinging an arm back over his head. He sighs, snuggling his way down into the sheets. “It’s part of my contract with the Academy. That being said…I’d do it anyway, yes. Just to protect some random citizens of a city I’m not even from.” 

 

“You know what? If the Paladins of the Holy White Order thought like that, I probably wouldn’t have left.”

 

“Really.” Rei twists slowly onto his side, pulling a pillow over to wrap his arms around. “To be fair, most regular humans don’t think like that, either.” 

 

“Oh, they’ll talk big,” Kaoru says with a sigh. “They’ll say they’re preserving the natural human order, that they’re protecting the poor defenseless humans from the evil Shadelings, all the party lines. But when it comes down to it, they don’t go looking for people to help. They wait until they get petitions, and the only people that really make those these days are, guess who? The ones that live around the Hinterlands. And if you think my family doesn’t pay more attention to people that either serve them or pay them tribute, you’re blind.”

 

“Sounds like the crown and Academy had an unholy baby.” 

 

“And fuck them too,” Kaoru says cheerfully. “Fuck all the big institutions. Let’s have a party.”

 

“I’d love to.” Rei’s smile is wry, and he drums his fingers slowly against his cheek. “Alas, if I’m an outcast of the Academy, then I’m on a kill list.” 

 

Kaoru’s smile dims slightly. “When do you have to go back?”

 

“Whenever you’re done with me. I promised I’d stay and help you with those disturbances, didn’t I? Also, this is a rather nice manor you have here.” 

 

“It is, isn’t it? Good for parties. I like parties. The girls are great at parties.”

 

“I’ve never been one for parties, but I might change my mind if you’re the one throwing them.” 

 

“Hey.” Kaoru brushes his hair back behind his ear. “You can always come stay here, when you need to kill something in High Harbor. It’d be fun to have you here whenever.”

 

“Oh dear, now you’ve invited me,” Rei says with a laugh, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of Kaoru’s wrist. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. Didn’t your parents teach you not to do that with demons?” 

 

Kaoru barks out a laugh. “They taught me a lot of things not to do with demons, you know! But I don’t think I’ve been listening to them, do you?”

 

“I’m getting the impression you’re a bit thick-skulled,” Rei teases, leaning over to press a kiss to Kaoru’s mouth again, batting his eyelashes. “But that’s one of the best things about men. They’re so stubborn and _pushy_. Oh,” he says, pausing, “just so you know, I have a pet dog. If I visit, you might meet him.” 

 

“Dog?” Kaoru’s mouth twitches. “I’m trying to figure it out. Huge, skeletal dog, with bat-like wings? Or tiny fluffy monster that yaps all the time?”

 

“The last one. He’s just a puppy, a good boy.” 

 

“You can have him in any room with stone floors, I don’t want him shedding on my decor, yeah?”

 

“Aww. He’ll be sad if he can’t be with me, though. He’s a clingy little thing.” 

 

“Yeah, if you ever bring him into my bedroom, you’re both uninvited. I don’t like animals. Girls love animals, they take all the attention.”

 

“Guess that makes me the girl here, huh?” Rei sweetly replies, entirely unfazed. “Good. I’ll happily be your lady.” 

 

Kaoru smiles, and rolls to the side, grabbing a soft cloth and starting to clean himself. “Good, I like being the center of attention. You can be my lady whenever you’re in town, isn’t that nice?”

 

“That sounds like a lovely way to spend my time.” Rei pauses, watching the way Kaoru moves, his eyes lidding. “My being here isn’t going to…cause you any trouble with your family, is it?” 

 

“The less they know about me, the better,” Kaoru says with a laugh. “If they come visiting and they find you, though…” He shrugs. “I don’t think they’ll kill me, but I can’t be sure. Excommunication, definitely.”

 

“I can almost entirely cloak my presence, if that helps. I just wanted the ghoul to find me, which is why you could sniff me out. I _am_ a Nightcloak.” 

 

“Ooh, bragging. Girls don’t like that, you know.”

 

“You’re not a girl.” 

 

“Yeah, it’s just a little bit of advice, you can have it for free. I’m being generous.”

 

“How many times do I need to remind you,” Rei patiently says, “that I don’t care about girls.” 

 

“Rude, even if you want to leave the field clear for me, so to speak, you could still appreciate the as people. You might need to charm one at some point, you know?”

 

“Oh…oh, no, I don’t do that,” Rei says with a laugh, fluttering a hand. “If a girl needs to be charmed, someone else is called, not me. I think women are wonderful, but talking to them—and flirting with them—that’s absolutely my weakness. I know, I know, it’s pathetic for a sex wizard, don’t remind me.” 

 

“And fighting them?” Kaoru asks, amused. “Or do you always choke like that?”

 

“Truth be told, I’m not much for fighting, but that wasn’t me choking—my magic just…stopped. I’ve never had that happen before, and as you like reminding me, I’m very old.” Rei shifts unhappily. “I still don’t know why that would’ve happened.” 

 

Kaoru pauses, then changes the subject, sort of. “How old _are_ you? Like, I’m assuming triple digits, yeah?”

 

“Mm. Old enough that humans can’t really process it, but not so old that I’m, you know, an all-knowing ancient.” Rei’s expression shifts wry. “Amongst demons, I’m still slightly above being a teenager.” 

 

“Sooo…..not triple digits, then.”

 

“Paladins truly think they know everything.” 

 

“So, like, four digits? Tell me up or down.”

 

“My _mother_ is in the thousands. You were right the first time; it’s triple digits. But…low triple digits,” Rei admits. 

 

Kaoru laughs, and kicks Rei gently in the shin. “So old mere humans can’t process it, huh? You’re probably younger than my grandfather.”

 

“ _Most_ humans don’t live past sixty in this hellscape of a country,” Rei sniffs. “So for them to see a man that looks like me and hear that he’s in his hundreds—I’d say that’s hard to process. I suppose paladins are an exception, aren’t they. What makes you holy, anyway? You know that the Emperor is a liar when he says he’s an angel, don’t you?” 

 

Kaoru snorts. “We don’t take orders from him. Why would we? He doesn’t pay. And if you ask my esteemed family, they’ll tell you that we were given our sacred charge from an order of gods, the kind that don’t exist here anymore. I think it’s probably more likely that my great-great-great-grandcestor hooked up with an angel or something, but…well, I hear that in cases like that, the line gets less potent the more it’s diluted. These days we’re just as long-lived as we were back then, so, what do I know? Maybe we really are descended from gods, or given charge by them or something. I just wish…never mind. They’re never going to be what I want them to be, and I’ll never be something they can be proud of.”

 

“I feel like I’m looking into a mirror, and it’s starting to frighten me,” Rei says with a soft laugh, reaching out to run a finger along Kaoru’s side. “If they aren’t what you want, and you aren’t what they want, then to hell with it,” he quietly says. “Work for yourself instead. You have more of a conscience than any other paladin I’ve met, and I’ve had a few nasty run-ins in the past.” 

 

Kaoru sighs. “There’s the problem. I don’t _want_ to be in this line of work. I just want to do something nice, you know? I don’t need to have mansions or whatever, I’ll just be…I don’t know. A flower arranger. Girls love flowers.”

 

“Stop, I’m starting to think we separated at birth. I just want to be a gardener, or play the violin for court nobles that don’t know what good music is but will pay for it, anyway.” 

 

“Yeah?” Kaoru smiles. “I’d like to hear you play. We can put together some nice parties while you’re here at least, don’t you think? And after that…well, who cares? Live for today, we’re old enough that we can waste a few nice years.”

 

_It would be nice to be able to shirk so many responsibilities_ , Rei almost says, but he bites his tongue. There’s no point in ruining their fun for today, and it’s not like he disagrees. “That sounds _very_ nice,” he sighs, flopping onto his back again. “But you have to be nice to my dog.” 

 

“As long as he’s nice to my furniture, and doesn’t steal all the girls.”


	44. Chapter 44

High Harbor—specifically, the Hakaze manor—seems far more like home than the Shadowlands, or even the Academy, and Rei can think of a number of persons that would find that in poor taste. 

 

Word will travel fast, be it magically, or be it through the mouths of any minor demon that managed to slither away before their prince destroyed their brethren. The idea of Ritsu’s judgement makes Rei’s skin crawl, and when he stumbles back into High Harbor, handing his horse off to a stablehand, he desperately tries to push those thoughts from his mind. 

 

A demon prince finding solace in a holy paladin, after destroying hordes of his own people—ah, yes, this seems appropriately terrible. At every single door, demon traps remain, but as drained as he is, Rei doesn’t even trip them—at least, not in any substantial way. The scruffy little wolf puppy that follows at his heels, however, lingers behind, growling at the doorway, pacing outside of it in distaste. “I’ll make him take it down in a minute,” he wearily promises, and stumbles his way up the stairway to Kaoru’s room. 

 

“Rei?”

 

Kaoru’s voice is low, cautious, and the sword in his hand glows faintly white as he peeks into the hallway. “My wards are tripping, but really softly…is that really you? And, oh, is that a dog?”

 

“A puppy,” Rei offers up with a tired smile, his eyes flicking down to the sword in Kaoru’s hand, then back up to his face. “If you ever wanted to slay the Demon Prince, now’s the time. I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to.” 

 

Kaoru ducks back inside his room, returning a moment later without the sword, combing a hand back through his hair. “Sorry, can’t be too careful. All the demon activity around here, I basically can’t move without hitting one. I assume that’s your fault, somehow? Come in, you look…um, fine.”

 

The wolf growls as it stares at Kaoru with glowing gold eyes, and firmly sits just outside of the bedroom, refusing to take a step further inside. Rei supposes that’s fair. “They’re fleeing,” he vaguely provides, stepping inside. “You didn’t have to put up the sword, it’s very attractive when you sling that thing around.” 

 

“You and your puppy are the only ones here to swing at,” Kaoru points out wryly, stopping to bow to the dog, then wave into the room. “Does he want to stay outside, maybe? Uh, does he need, I don’t know, a patch of grass or a bone or something? I can send to the kitchens, I guess…”

 

The wolf stares at Kaoru for a moment longer before baring his teeth, circling three times, then flopping down onto the carpeted floor.

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, he’ll make his own fun. He’s the Wolf Prince, Saiga. I don’t think he trusts paladins.” Rei inhales slowly, blinking a few times to try and will away the shakiness that follows, then simply flops down onto the end of Kaoru’s bed. “Give it a few days…and your demon problems should be fairly…nonexistent. At least, for awhile.” 

 

Kaoru’s eyebrows raise, and he shuts and locks the door, sketching a casual sigil on the wood to seal it magically as well. The life energy and intention interacts with the pre-carved sigil, letting even a non-wizard create a magical barrier. “You look like you haven’t slept since I saw you last. Hell, even if you _had_ your breasts right now, I’d probably still want you to sleep.”

 

“If I put them on, will you keep me?” Rei smiles and flops onto his back, shutting his eyes. “That might be the last bit of magic I do for awhile, but sounds like it might be worth it.” 

 

Kaoru hesitates for a moment, then plants a kiss to Rei’s neck, slinging an arm around his waist. “What if I offered to keep you even without them? I mean, don’t tell anyone.”

 

Rei pauses, and his lips twitch into a faint smile as he turns, burying his face into Kaoru’s neck. “I knew you really liked me. I don’t think you can officially keep me unless I have breasts, though.” 

 

Kaoru opens his mouth, then, closes it, pausing as he processes that. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?” he asks, trying to sound casual. “The whole, you know, when I asked you to marry me, and then you went off to fight demons and pet puppies for a year instead of answering me?”

 

“Your timing was bad,” Rei defensively retorts, lifting his face again. “The entire West was at risk, and—I want you to know, there was _not_ very much petting of puppies. I wish there was.” 

 

“Not the point,” Kaoru says with a sigh. He grabs a pillow, and thumps it down on top of Rei’s head. “You made me feel like a real ass. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

 

“ _I_ didn’t think you were serious,” comes Rei’s muffled response as he grabs for the pillow and holds it down over his own face. “You’ve made it very clear about your preferences. I thought it was because of the venom, or just…you being cute, when you asked.” 

 

Kaoru scowls, and twists around, standing and stalking away from the bed. “I don’t just propose randomly for fun, you know. I’m actually kind of famous for _not_ getting girls mixed up in my stupid family life in a permanent way. If you don’t want to, just say no.”

 

“I _didn’t_ say no.” 

 

Rei tosses the pillow aside as he sits up, grabbing at Kaoru’s wrist to haul him back. “If you were serious, you’re an idiot,” he quietly says. “What would your parents think? Word will get back to them, won’t it?” 

 

“Well, if they didn’t want me to marry a shapeshifting demon, they should have been more clear about my inheritance,” Kaoru says, trying not to let Rei see his blush. “My grandfather thinks I’m a wastrel, so he wrote into his inheritance that I get the castle here for good when I get married. I checked, it doesn’t say anything about what species my wife has to be. And for the rest of it…well, fuck ‘em, you know? I hate the way they live.”

 

Rei pauses, glancing down for a moment before he slumps forward, stuffing his face firmly between Kaoru’s shoulderblades. He smells _good_ , and clean, and nothing like the froth and filth of demons and Inglings, drawn up from the depths of gods know where. He wouldn’t, of course; Kaoru is a _paladin_ , the kind of human his mother would love to feast upon as a statement. “I _missed_ you,” he says instead of any of that, sliding his arm around Kaoru’s waist from behind. 

 

A little of the tension in Kaoru’s back dissolves, and his shoulders slump down as well, hands dropping down to squeeze Rei’s hands. “I missed you, too,” he says softly. “More than I thought I would. This whole thing, where you disappear to fight the worst things in the world and I’m waiting around like a lovelorn maiden, this is no good for me. Gives me an ulcer.”

 

“Next time, I’ll take you with me,” Rei quietly offers up. “But this time, I couldn’t. Someone like you…paladins—every demon there would’ve wanted not just to eat you, but…fuck knows what else.” His arms tighten in a slow squeeze. “You were that worried about me, huh? I told you, I’m a Nightcloak.”

 

“Yeah, and you look like something chewed up a Lord Nightcloak and spat it out.” Kaoru tries to look angry, but his voice just comes out worried, which is extremely embarrassing, so he doesn’t turn around. “I don’t want to go with you into awful places, I want you to stay where it’s beautiful and friendly. You deserve that too, you know. At least if you married me, you’d always have this to come back to.”

 

“Inglings tore down the entire barrier between our country and the Shadowlands. I didn’t have a choice.” If he says it enough times, maybe he’ll start to believe it, too— _our country._ Ah, Ritsu would hate that, so much. Rei shoves his face harder against Kaoru’s back, rubbing it in. “Will this be something as big and lavish as a royal wedding? You’re something of a celebrity around here; every girl will be heartbroken.” 

 

A relieved little smile starts tugging at the corners of Kaoru’s mouth. “I don’t know…is that a yes? The city might want the spectacle, but the proper paladin way is a quiet, holy ceremony. I’d have to call in one of my family’s Devouts.”

 

“Ooh. Good, I can finally show off how truly good at hiding in plain sight I am.” Rei lifts his face, hooking his chin over the back of Kaoru’s shoulder. “I guarantee even your father wouldn’t be able to tell what I am. Of course it’s a yes.” 

 

Kaoru moves suddenly, turning and shoving Rei down into the bed, covering his face with a rapid-fire peppering of kisses. “You’re _awful_ ,” he laughs, grabbing Rei’s wrists and holding them down. “You really made me think you didn’t love me, you know.”

 

Rei huffs out a laugh, lurching half-heartedly against Kaoru’s hold to kiss him back. He misses, mostly kisses Kaoru’s cheek, and flops back down with a shaky sigh, shutting his eyes. “Maybe I was just testing you,” he says. “I wanted to see how you’d react when I came back. Run me through, or do something like this.”

 

“Awful wife behavior. We’re going to need to work on that.”

 

Rei heaves a sigh, and goes boneless with the flutter of magic that obliges Kaoru, and shifts Rei’s body to, more or less, the appearance of a woman’s. “Mm, this is the extent of my effort, but it comes off like better behavior, right?”

 

Kaoru’s eyes light up, and he immediately jumps on top of Rei, wriggling down until he’s kneeling between those creamy thighs, nibbling eagerly at his neck, hands sliding up to cup creamy, heavy breasts. “I was being _really_ good about not asking you to,” he says eagerly, “but holy heavens, you’re so lovely, I’m going to seek out every part of you that tastes different from every other part.”

 

Rei’s lips twitch in amusement as he sprawls out, eyes shut, legs splaying. “Go on ahead,” he says, chest heaving underneath the touch of Kaoru’s hands. “What’s the more important part, though? The boobs, or the pussy?” 

 

Kaoru shakes his head, fingers deftly working the fastenings of Rei’s shirt, though he pauses to look down for a moment. “Nice,” he decides. “Those huge tits in a man’s shirt, that’s a nice look. Anyway, neither. It’s the smell. You smell different.”

 

“Ahh. I see.” Rei’s lips twist into a grin. “Good, because I only had enough magic for the boobs.” 

 

Kaoru freezes, and his jaw drops. “Wh—you didn’t—“ He reaches down, and his face falls in comical dismay. “I…oh…you know what, yeah, I probably would have chosen boobs. This works, actually.”

 

“ _Apparently_ , as someone told me, the parts don’t really matter—it’s all in what I smell like,” Rei teases, pushing up onto his elbows and stealing a soft kiss from Kaoru’s mouth. “If you want the rest, just play with me a little. Then I’ll have enough magic to properly transform.” 

 

Kaoru’s grin is sharp-toothed and sly, and he starts working his way down Rei’s pale skin, leaving little love bites and kisses over Rei’s neck, collarbone, chest, and belly. “You mean I get to play with both tonight?” he teases, pressing a kiss to one creamy hip. The stiffening cock between Rei’s thighs doesn’t hold the terror for him that it used to, back when they’d first met, and he tongues it slowly, holding eye contact with Rei as he takes the head into his mouth.

 

Rei sucks in a soft, ragged breath, letting his head fall back as his cock hardens further underneath the slide of Kaoru’s warm, soft tongue. “If I had known that was an option…I would’ve shown up like this awhile ago,” he laughs, sliding a hand up to one of his own breasts and absently rolling a nipple between his fingers. “Maybe I’ll show up like this on our wedding day.” 

 

“If _I’d_ known it was an option, I’d have asked for it earlier,” Kaoru says with a laugh, tossing his hair back from his face, then dipping his head down, sucking the first several inches into his mouth, bobbing his head over the head, letting his hands come up to stroke over the shaft and Rei’s hips. The taste isn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared the first time he’d done this, and he sucks hard, flicking his tongue over the head. Already, he starts to feel the little tingle he’s come to associate with Rei’s magic, a tiny prickling under the skin that he doubts he’d feel if not for the paladin blood that flows through him, alerting him to his life energies being inflamed.

 

Slowly but surely, that terrible, shaky feeling of being so damnably _empty_ of energy starts to fade. 

 

Rei breathes out a sigh of relief as much as a rumbling, content sigh of pleasure, and slides a hand down, dragging his fingers slowly through Kaoru’s hair. “You…have such a nice tongue, don’t you,” he murmurs, his hips twitching upward, the head of his cock sliding against Kaoru’s tongue. “I’m already starting to feel better.” 

 

Kaoru pulls off with a wet swipe of his tongue, and smirks. “Of course you feel better, I’m doing this, isn’t that nice? Anyone would feel good with a mouth on their prick, right? Ah, but I think mine is the best, right?” At least, he deserves to hear that it is, after being worried for several months that Rei was eaten by a demon or something.

 

“Every part of you is the best,” Rei groans, throwing an arm over his face as his hips cant upward, seeking out that slick heat even when Kaoru pulls away. “Nnnh, be nice to me, don’t _stop_ , or I’ll put it in you somewhere else.” 

 

“What’s best?” Kaoru pulls off, letting his hand take his mouth’s place as he sits up, meeting Rei’s eyes. “What’ll make you feel better fastest? Is it finishing? Or is it being inside, or me being in you, or what? You never told me.”

 

Kaoru’s fingers are about as nice as his mouth, because as much as he slings a sword around, his hands are _soft_ , and Rei shudders as he arches up into that touch helplessly. “It’s…ah…the most annoying answer is ‘it depends’,” Rei admits, wetting his lower lip with a swipe of his tongue. “Mostly on what _you_ want more. But f-finishing helps regardless, for sure.” 

 

“Heh, maybe I should just finish you up,” Kaoru says with a grin, deftly tugging on Rei’s cock, feeling the warm, live pulse there that goes farther than anything else to reassure Kaoru that Rei is _here_ , warm and alive and in his bed. “Otherwise you’ll keep being useless, right? How many times do you need to go before you can take care of yourself properly?”

 

“I-I’m—I don’t know,” Rei huffily, distractedly mutters, giving into the urge for Kaoru again, petting at his hair, his shoulders. His cock pulses within Kaoru’s hand, dripping slowly from the tip. “I haven’t ever…been this empty before—nhh, come up here, you should at least put your mouth on my boobs at the same time, then I’ll be fast.”

 

Kaoru’s eyes light up, and he crawls up, straddling Rei’s chest, using his hands to press those huge, firm breasts together around his cock. “What about like this?” he asks, eyes dancing. “I mean, it’s definitely more for me than for you, heh, but it’s supposed to work if I have fun, right? Open your mouth, sweetheart.”

 

A shudder goes straight down Rei’s spine, and he manages to drag a pillow over, propping his head up with it. “It’s…a lot faster, if you’re having fun,” he breathes, wetting his lips before parting them for Kaoru’s cock. His own throbs between his legs, but Rei ignores it, far more focused on getting a taste of Kaoru’s.

 

“Then you should be good for a thousand years after this,” Kaoru breathes, his cock aching with every drag between those soft, firm breasts. The sight of Rei’s mouth on the far end makes his blood boil, and he thrusts forward hard, bumping the head against those red lips. “M-maybe two thousand.”

 

Rei’s hands slide up, pressing to both sides of his breasts to hold them up and around Kaoru’s cock as he thrusts forward. His tongue flicks out, dragging over the tip of Kaoru’s cock, and the taste makes him groan, soft and rumbling in the back of his throat. “T…that would be nice,” he rasps, cheeks flushed hot. “Ahh…fuck, Kaoru, you taste _so_ good…” 

 

Kaoru’s thrusting gets faster and faster, his hormones and the long wait taking over, until he’s rutting forward like a man possessed. His hands come down to stroke Rei’s hair, as gentle as they can be when his body _burns_ , until finally with an arching cry he spills, painting Rei’s face, making the slick flesh even more slippery with every sweet buck of his hips. “A-ah, that’s—perfect, good girl, that’s so good…annnhh…”

 

Rei pants for a full breath, nails biting into the soft skin of his own breast as he holds them around Kaoru’s cock, savoring the heat rutting between them and the spill of that slick, bitter fluid over his lips and what makes it to his tongue. He shivers, toes curling as he drops his head back, tongue dragging over his lower lip to taste more. “T-that’s…much better,” he rasps, shutting his eyes as he trembles. “Ahh, you came a lot…were you _waiting_ for me?” 

 

“N-no!” Kaoru’s face flushes suddenly pink, and he laughs, a little high-pitched, and reaches down to start stroking Rei’s cock quickly. “What a dumb thought, ha ha, I’m totally a playboy, you know?”

 

“Uh—huh, s-sure,” Rei gasps, grabbing at Kaoru’s back, clinging to him as he arches up, rutting into that smooth, warm palm. He bites his lip, then gives up, lurching up to sink his teeth into the curve of Kaoru’s shoulder—not biting to feed, but biting to hold onto him as he shudders, coming hard with barely another stroke of Kaoru’s hand. 

 

Kaoru endures the clutching, the biting, and the shaking, only leaning down to press another long kiss to Rei’s lips once he finally relaxes. Freed, he starts stroking Rei’s hair, nuzzling into the back of his neck. “There you go, darling, that’s better, isn’t it?”

 

A little dazed, Rei nods, rubbing his sweaty face into Kaoru’s shoulder. “ _So_ much better,” he mumbles, shivering anew as he twists in Kaoru’s arms to press up against him fully. The warmth and ease of magic slowly renewing itself within his body helps him to relax, and his body slowly shifts fully into the more familiar, entirely feminine form that Kaoru has been acquainted with in the past. “Just fits better with you like this,” he murmurs, face half-hidden underneath a far heavier head of hair as Rei nuzzles into Kaoru’s chest. “Warm. Good.” 

 

Kaoru sighs happily, twining their bodies together. “Tomorrow?” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the shell of Rei’s ear. “I’ll drag that hidebound old idiot priest out from his hidey hole, make it official, even send a rider to my folks.”

 

“You really think I’ll be lovely enough tomorrow?” Rei sleepily breathes, deliberately squishing his breasts up against Kaoru’s chest. Nice. “I might still be a little…weird…but I can probably pull myself together for a few hours…” 

 

Kaoru laughs, and tweaks a nipple, drawing Rei closer by the waist. “You think you’re done for the night? My dearest sweetheart, by the time morning rolls around, you’ll be as fresh as the day you were born.”

 

“You get to do all the work,” Rei firmly says, throwing his arms around Kaoru’s neck. “All of it. Take care of me. I just saved the world and I’m getting married with no one to give me away.” 

 

“Ah, angel, that’s the kind of task you need a holy paladin for,” Kaoru says with a wink, rolling until he’s squashing Rei firmly down to the bed. “You won’t have your puppy give you away, then?”

 

“My puppy is bratty and would be jealous,” Rei groans, flopping back happily and wrapping both arms around Kaoru’s back to pet down his spine. “And no one at the Academy can know— _especially_ not my brother, ahah.”

 

Kaoru pauses, mid-nibble, and draws back slightly, eyes concerned. “You know, we don’t have to get married. Just if you want to. I’ll love you the same whether you want to be shackled to a collection of issues like me or not, heh.”

 

Rei blinks up at Kaoru, head slowly tilting to the side. “Cold feet all of a sudden?” he mildly asks, reaching up to tap the tip of Kaoru’s nose with a long finger. “You think _you’re_ a collection of issues?” 

 

“Hey, I’m not the one talking about how I have to keep it secret,” Kaoru mutters, snapping his teeth at that fingertip, missing on purpose. “Can you even set foot on holy ground?”

 

“If I have lots of magic to hide my nature with…I think so?” Rei hazards, wiggling his fingers an inch or two away from Kaoru’s snapping teeth. “It’s not that I _have_ to keep it secret, I just…think it would be better. Safer. Especially for you. Don’t look at me like that, I know you don’t want wizards breathing down your throat.” 

 

“Well, no, though I can think of some things I’d like one wizard to do down my throat,” Kaoru says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Rei’s cheek, then the tip of his nose. “Don’t worry about it. I just know that _I_ sensed you, the first time we met. How full were you then?”

 

“Not very, and…also, intentionally attempting to lure out another demon by leaking,” Rei admits, taking a snap of his own at Kaoru’s nose, fangs glinting. “I’m telling you, I could pass so well as human that even your esteemed family wouldn’t be able to tell what I am. If you’re worried, though, I’ll try to cross holy ground tonight to test it.” 

 

“Just…do it well enough that _I_ can’t tell,” Kaoru offers. “I’m…well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but I’m kind of a Sensitive, as far as my family goes. If I can’t sniff you, no one’ll be able to. Except maybe great-grandmother, but she never travels anymore, she’s almost six hundred.”

 

Rei’s eyes widen, and amusement slowly slides into clear view over her face. “So I’m stealing the _one_ good paladin left in this world?” he concludes, lips twitching into a grin. “And he’s marrying a demon prince. Oooh, I can’t help but like that, it’s in my devious nature.” 

 

“Hey, I thought you were reformed,” Kaoru says in mock-horror, shucking his clothes completely, tossing them to the side of the bed. “And I was marrying the only good demon left in the world. Or the first good one? Hey, can I knock you up, or are you still a guy on the inside?”

 

“I think I have a uterus like this,” Rei says, poking at his own stomach curiously. “But being a wizard, I think I’m still sterile. You’re welcome to try, though, our children would be lovely and I’ve always wanted them. Also—I’m plenty good, I think, but I still have a few instincts that most humans would consider in poor taste.” 

 

Kaoru purses his lips. “I mean, kids aren’t exactly hard to come by, right? If we really feel like it? Or, well…” He grins, and divests Rei of the rest of his clothes, grabbing at Rei’s thighs. “We could always just try. Maybe wizards give up too easy. We’ve got time, right? Paladins live long, and demons live basically forever, right?”

 

Rei hums contently, wriggling to wrap his thighs around Kaoru’s hips, dragging him down on top of him. “I’m happy to try until I’m sick of the idea,” he says. “And if I’m marrying you, I’ll make sure you live more than just ‘long’, so we can try when I’m no longer sick of it again. How’s that for a good idea, mm?” 

 

“Ugh, I don’t want to live forever,” Kaoru says with a laugh, rubbing the head of his cock on Rei’s thigh, a glint in his eyes as he stiffens. “A few hundred is more than enough for me, isn’t more than that just greedy?”

 

“Not if you’re sticking around for me.” Rei’s eyes lid, his hands sliding down Kaoru’s back as he leans up, mouth on the arc of Kaoru’s throat. “People that I love, I want to keep,” he murmurs. “So let me keep you.” 

 

A shiver runs down Kaoru’s back, and he leans in, reaching a hand down to run a finger up Rei’s slit. “Keep me in here,” he suggests, “nice and wet for me, darling, and I’ll never want to leave. Tell me you want me, and you can have me. Tell me how it makes you feel, when I’m in you.”

 

Rei’s eyes flutter, and his teeth snap against Kaoru’s throat, grazing over the skin instead of sinking in. It’s tempting, but he _waits_ , no matter how much he desperately wants to bite down and _drink._ Rei arches, pressing down against that finger until it slips inside, and he arches with a breathy gasp, automatically clenching down. “I want you,” he breathes, head falling back down onto the bed in his own pile of hair. “Gods, I want you. All I thought about…was being in your bed, because no one else feels good anymore. Nnhh, Kaoru, _please_ …” 

 

“Enough play,” Kaoru groans, and pulls his finger out, sliding it up to circle around Rei’s clit, just as he leans forward and presses his cock in deep. His eyes roll back, and then everything is sweet wet tightness, swallowing him down, sucking him in. “You’re good, you’re good, you’re _perfect_ ,” he gasps, and presses a sweet, sucking kiss to one nipple.

 

Rei’s voice breaks into a breathy whimper, and his thighs close around Kaoru’s sides, squeezing tight as he rocks down, chest heaving with the stretch of Kaoru’s cock sinking deep inside. He shifts, sighing, pinching at his other nipple while Kaoru’s mouth sucks on one, his other hand fisting into Kaoru’s hair to cling to him. “ _You’re_ perfect,” Rei pants. “That…mnn, you fit in me…so perfectly, Kao~ru…” 

 

“Seems impossible,” Kaoru pants, tugging on a nipple with his teeth when he pauses to collect his thoughts, “that I _won’t_ get you pregnant, huh? When it—nnh, when it feels like this?” He doesn’t care too much, not _really_ , but there had been such a wistful light in Rei’s eyes…

 

The question takes Rei off-guard—he’s missed Kaoru, he _has_ , and that, combined with this ridiculous biological compulsion that he can’t ever _really_ fulfill culminates into some _strange_ , overly-intense orgasm that sharply brings tears to his eyes. “K-keep going, don’t you dare stop,” he manages, trembling as he clings to Kaoru’s back. His toes curl hard enough that his calves start to cramp, and with a huff of breath, Rei throws an arm over his face to hide his expression. “Ahh, fuck, I’ve really been without you too long, huh…” 

 

Kaoru rocks in, deep and unhurried, taking the time to really enjoy the squeeze of Rei’s lovely body around him, tasting his skin, breathing in deep so he doesn’t miss a single moment of that _smell_. “Shh, I’m taking care of you, just lay there and look pretty, let me do all the work, yeah? I’ve got you, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” A fierce, protective feeling wells up in him at the sight of her face, and maybe his hands squeeze her a little tighter, hold her a little closer.

 

Rei nods hurriedly, lower lip trembling before he bites down onto it and just lets himself sag down into the bed. “Good,” he huffs out wetly, cut off briefly by a lingering shudder that makes her nails flex into Kaoru’s back when he slides in so _deeply_. “N-no one else does. Don’t…don’t let me leave for awhile this time, okay? Make me stay,” Rei pleads. “I _want_ to stay.” _But everything keeps pulling me away and I can’t say no_ , lingers on the tip of her tongue. Kaoru can figure that out. He _has_ to. 

 

“You’ll stay.” Kaoru’s voice is firm, as firm as his arms around Rei’s body as he rocks down, taking him with every rock of his hips deep inside. “I don’t—gods, I don’t _care_ if you want to do, whatever you want, I’m not your jailer, but you _will_ come home to me, because you’re _mine_ , Rei, no one else…”

 

“A proper wife—would stay,” Rei manages with a breathless laugh, dragging his nails up Kaoru’s back as he holds onto him, stuffing his face into Kaoru’s neck as he’s taken again, again, _again_. His mouth fastens to the side of Kaoru’s neck, sucking right over his pulse, the scent of blood just underneath starting to make Rei’s vision swim. “Sorry…if I bite,” he whispers with a hard shiver. “You smell so good, Kaoru…” 

 

“I don’t want you to be a proper wife,” Kaoru breathes, his cock achingly hard when Rei starts to suck and bite, when it takes all of his concentration not to just ravish him hard and fast until they’re both trembling. “I want you to be _my_ wife. And she—can bite all she wants, heh…”

 

“Don’t _invite_ me,” Rei groans, but it’s far too late—that turns out to be the last bit of self-control he has. His fangs bare before sinking into Kaoru’s neck, biting down eagerly to drink with long, hungry gulps as he clings to Kaoru’s back, nails leaving half-moons pressed into Kaoru’s skin when the taste of that bright, coppery blood drips over Rei’s tongue. It’s all the more fragrant and delicious when Kaoru’s _inside_ , and the noise that leaves throat is more of a desperate whine than anything else.

 

Somehow, the way Rei bites makes Kaoru’s body _surge_ , and he comes before he can think about it, before he can warn Rei. The idea of coming inside Rei makes him cry out, face buried in the crook of Rei’s shoulder and neck, hips pistoning in deep as he groans. “You’re—you’re perfect,” he gasps, voice broken and urgent. “Damn, that’s cheating…”

 

Rei shudders, toes curling into the bed sheets as he clings to Kaoru with both arms and legs, slowly releasing his neck with a ragged, wet gasp. _Feeling_ Kaoru come inside of him makes him twitch and clench anew, a sharp little spike of an orgasm making him flop back with a groan. “You’re the one…that tastes so good,” he breathes, licking at red, bloodied lips. “ _That’s_ cheating. Ahh, don’t pull out, don’t pull out, I’ve heard it takes better if we stay like this for awhile…” 

 

Kaoru grins wearily, flopping down on top of Rei, staying nestled inside of him even as his cock starts to soften. “I’ve never heard of a girl wizard getting fucked by a holy knight, you know. We’re probably going to be great at this.”

 

“A _half-demon_ girl wizard and a holy knight,” Rei dreamily says, petting a hand down Kaoru’s sweaty back. “It really is a shame…you’d be a great father, I think.” 

 

“Quit talking about shame, would you? Let’s just think positive, I bet we got this.”

 

“You’re right. I’m going to have a _litter_ , look forward to that.” 

 

Kaoru presses a hard kiss to Rei’s cheek. “I am. Wife.”

 

~

 

In a tiny town just north of High Harbor, Sakuma Rei languishes. 

 

In a tiny town, in a brothel.

 

In a brothel, in a private, locked room. Alone. 

 

“He’s been here for _days_ , just cryin’,” comes the huffy, rough-edged growl of Koga, the current Wolf Prince, currently in the form of a scruffy, silver-haired five-year-old. He’s dragging someone along, Rei can hear it, but he can barely hear it over the thudding of his own pulse, the thud of his own _magical_ pulse, now feeling like it’s stretched thin because he’s so… _so_ far from the Academy. It’s not even that far—a day’s ride, maybe two if he’s going slow, but it _feels_ far. Anything except being a footstep away would be too far, and even that… 

 

Rei groans, twisting onto his side where he sprawls, pulling a pillow over his head as if that will silence that desperate pull. His magic might be noisy, but it’s still weak, uselessly so, the last high he’d been riding after galavanting off within the Isles long gone. Touching anyone— _anyone else_ —feels strange and painful, and Rei trembles with the memory of trying. 

 

“Oi, are you up?” 

 

The question ricochets against his ear drums, and Rei bursts into tears. “You’re too loud!” he snaps, sitting up and flinging his pillow right into Koga’s face. “I _told you_ I wasn’t feeling well, just because you’re as deaf as a human doesn’t m…ean…” He blinks, eyes focusing through tears for a moment to catch sight of _Kaoru_ —Kaoru, of all people right now—and he trails off, sniffling for a moment before the tears start anew. 

 

The sight of Rei, Kaoru’s supposed wife, in his male form, in the robes he’s used for traveling for years, laid out and looking boozed up and _wretched_ , makes Kaoru more than hesitant. He sits on the bed, giving the silver-haired kid a little scratch behind the ears—just like his grandfather, heh—and nods to the door. “Go tell the innkeeper you’re the kid I sent, she’ll feed you. Hey, Lady Hakaze, you inside this mess of a wizard?”

 

Koga growls, low and grumpy, and scampers off out of the room, grumbling something about _none of this being fair, he didn’t even do anything wrong, stupid wizards._

 

Rei sniffs, then sobs, huddling up with his knees drawn up to his chest. “I can’t,” he mumbles. “I don’t have enough magic to transform. Or I might, but I need to h…hold onto it for now. Kaoru—K…Kaoru, something _terrible_ happened.” 

 

Kaoru turns, taking the pathetic creature into his arms, noticing immediately that Rei doesn’t melt into his embrace the way he usually does. He frowns, pulling back a little. “What happened? You look _awful_ , you sure you don’t want to grind up a little magic before you tell me what’s going on?”

 

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

 

Rei exhales a hot, wet breath as he draws back, staring up at Kaoru through the mess of his bangs with tears still streaking down pale, white cheeks. “Have you…” He swallows, glancing aside. “Have you ever heard…of resonant bonds?” 

 

Kaoru frowns, trying to wrack his brain, still sluggish from the ride. “Um…that’s a wizard thing, right? I don’t know, I’ve never had a lot of interaction with wizards before you.”

 

Rei nods, wiping his nose with his sleeve as he scoots over on the chaise he’d been sprawled upon to make room for Kaoru. He rakes his bangs out of his face, only to let them go a second later and let them flop back into place without care. “It’s very rare,” he says. “It’s when two wizards…” He fumbles with the words, hating it, _hating it_ , and hating how much he can feel it the more he thinks and talks about it. His head throbs, and Rei shuts his eyes, his head flopping back over the back of the chaise. “It’s basically wizard marriage,” he wearily settles upon. “But…magically. And without permission. Wizards can’t control who they’re bonded to, and when it’s to another wizard in particular, it’s…so…so…mindnumbing.” 

 

The words hit Kaoru like a pillow swung into his back by a giant. If he weren’t sitting down, he might have staggered. “Without permission,” he repeats slowly. “That means…it just happens do you? You don’t…get to choose it? Are you—hey, I’m trying not to be an idiot, you’re saying that someone made you get married to someone else? What the hell, we’ve been married for—fuck, a century, surely that takes precedent!”

 

“No one makes it happen. It just…happens.” 

 

Rei slumps down further, wishing he could will himself to sink into the ground. “No one else knows,” he quietly says. “No one else can feel it, or _see it_. But I can. And…he can.” He swallows hard. “I shouldn’t’ve come back. I was in the Isles—a wizard had bloomed, I was taking care of him. He was…it turned out, he was a prophet. An accurate one.” Rei’s mouth twists, and a shiver runs down his spine. “I shouldn’t’ve gone back to the Academy, but…curiosity kills the cat.” 

 

Kaoru lets go, raking his hands back through his hair, trying to process this. “Well, then…I don’t know, can’t you ignore it? If no one else can see or sense it?”

 

“Maybe if I was a shittier wizard,” Rei says with a ragged laugh, flopping a hand helplessly. “But I’m a Nightcloak. And so is he. I feel it every single time I breathe. And…and gods, I’m screwed. I’m _so_ screwed. I can’t _fuck_ anyone but him, Kaoru.” 

 

Kaoru’s jaw drops. He stares, horror dawning in him with every breath he takes. “You…you can’t? What, is there a law against it? No, no, that doesn’t track, you said wizards aren’t supposed to fuck at all, so you don’t care about that, so…you _can’t_?” His eyes widen. “Are you going to die?”

 

“Wizards aren’t allowed to, by that idiot Emperor’s laws,” Rei dully says, staring up at the ceiling. “But if you have a resonant bond, and you can _feel_ it like this…it hurts, to lie with anyone else.” His lower lip trembles, and he sucks in a quick breath to try and not burst into tears again. “I tried. I could hear it even more, I could _feel_ it even more, like something constricting…all around me, like someone screaming into my ears, begging me to stop…” 

 

He trails off, blinking a few times. “I’ve been sick for days. I…think I can still function if I feed like a demon only, but…no sex magic.” A corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m useless. Helpless. But I have no right to complain—my _mate_ is still stuck within the Academy, and the Emperor already hated him before this happened. I certainly did try to fuck him before running off into the distance.” 

 

“Your mate.” Kaoru’s voice is dull and hollow to his own ears, and he rakes a hand back through his hair, trying to keep some of the emotions off of his face. “You’re a Nightcloak. You seriously can’t break this thing?”

 

“He’d die. I…might die.” Rei exhales, and turns, grabbing for Kaoru’s hand. “I didn’t want this,” he says, as firmly as he can manage. “I don’t even _know_ him. I daresay he wants this as much as I do, which is not at all—Kaoru, I desperately need you to not be angry with me, I already want to die because the idea of not being able to climb on you makes me want to scream.” 

 

Kaoru sighs, and flicks Rei in the forehead. “You’re really dumb,” he says, as gently as he can manage when his emotions are in a riot. “I’m not mad at you, I’m just…I don’t know. This sucks. I know it’s not your fault, why the hell would a sex wizard choose to not be able to screw?”

 

Rei’s lower lip trembles again, and he gives in, throwing himself at Kaoru no matter how his nerves start to vibrate in some horrific, out of tune mess. That _has_ to go away soon—not being able to touch anyone is another level of punishment, outside of the horror of not being able fuck only a _single_ person in this damned world that he doesn’t even have access to. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, burying his face into Kaoru’s neck. “I shouldn’t’ve gone back. Maybe then I could’ve…I dunno, avoided _knowing_ forever. I hate this, I’m going to die like this.” 

 

“You’re sooo dramatic,” Kaoru says with a sigh. “You don’t see me whining about the fact that my wife just kicked me to the curb after a century, do you? Damn, the one thing that actually forced you to be faithful and you’re doing it with someone else, that’s some _heavy_ irony.” He strokes Rei’s hair, hands tender in contrast to his words.

 

“I haven’t k…kicked you to the curb,” Rei wetly says, sniffling as he rubs his face into Kaoru’s shoulder. “You’re my favorite. I don’t _want_ to be faithful, I want to fuck until I get sick of trying to have babies with you and then fuck _you_ more, and be so powerful the Emperor can’t do anything about me wandering around as a rogue Nightcloak.” 

 

“We tried that,” Kaoru reminds him, petting Rei’s shoulders now, grabbing a blanket to sort of roll Rei into a package. “Remember, back in the Grey King’s reign? That was a good couple of years, right when that Emperor of yours was just a war hero and you were convinced he was up to no good.”

 

Rei, Demon King of the Shadowlands, as of recently something of a celebrity pirate in the Isles, and most esteemed Nightcloak (when the Emperor decides to acknowledge him), lets himself be rolled into a blob of well-loved traveling clothes and a whorehouse blanket. “I blew up half the Hinterlands and the West to save everyone’s asses, and all I get is my b…brother hating me,” he sniffles. “So when I want to quit and give up and just be a good-for-nothing slutty arm ornament, I end up fucking _bonded_ instead, and now I have someone _else_ who’s my responsibility when the Emperor j-just wants to fuck with me, and him, and I don’t have the magic to _fix it_ —“ 

 

The full-on sobbing begins again, just as Koga wanders his way back into the room, gnawing on a turkey leg. He stares, put out, and takes a step back out. 

 

“Oi, kiddo,” Kaoru calls, stuffing a pillow over Rei’s face when he can’t stand the self-pitying sobs anymore. “Did you seriously drag this disaster all the way from the Academy? _How_?”

 

Koga’s head pops back in. “Kept makin’ him feed,” he says with a shrug, and pauses to rip a mouthful of meat off of the bone with sharp fangs. “Blood’s just as good but he’s dumb about it. Just open your wrist up and make him drink, he’ll snap out of it.” 

 

Kaoru sighs. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, you’re as bad as Saiga used to be. Rei, you can’t keep feeding off of this little wolf boy, no matter how tough he is—and he’s obviously very tough and cool,” he adds, knowing how the boy’s sire and grandsire have always been sensitive about such things. “You’ll get hairy.”

 

Koga forgoes growling in favor of begrudging approval, eyeing Kaoru as he chews noisily. “I’ll be the coolest Wolf King ever,” he insistently says, and jabs his half-shredded turkey leg in the direction of Rei. “Even if this guy is being sooo lame.” 

 

“I c-can’t—h-help it, my life is over,” Rei sobs, curling up around the pillow thrown into his face. “I _hate_ feeding like a demon, I haaate it, I’d rather die, just kill me, y-you’re a holy knight, just do it—“ 

 

“Feed him,” Koga deadpans. “He keeps gettin’ weepier the hungrier he is.” 

 

Kaoru scowls at the blobby roll-up that is his erstwhile wife. “You sure you can’t just bite? I have to cut it and everything? I hate that, it hurts and it leaves an ugly scar, and I’m pretty. You don’t stay pretty for two hundred years by cutting yourself open all the time, you know.”

 

Rei sniffs loudly, staring up at him through his soggy hair, and makes a slow, begrudging grabby motion through the blanket. “Come here,” he hiccups. “You _are_ pretty. I want you.” 

 

“Out, kiddo,” Kaoru calls, and curls up around Rei, offering up his neck. “This is too adult a mood for a puppy.”

 

Koga’s stare is a skeptical one as he sucks on his bone and flops down onto the floor in front of the door. “Uh huh. See for yourself.”

 

Rei untangles himself enough to get his arms around Kaoru’s waist, trying not to sniffle and hiccup as he nuzzles into Kaoru’s neck, breathing in deeply. He still smells sweet—not as distracting as he used to be, but blood still seems unscathed and delicious, unlike the allure of sex—and he bites after only a drag of his tongue across the skin to prime it, swallowing noisily with every mouthful. 

 

Kaoru stares down at Rei, startled when actual _pain_ flares through him, untainted by the usual sweet pleasure and sensual excitement that he’s used to from Rei’s bite. “Um…wow, this sucks,” he says flatly. “I didn’t realize how much I liked it when you did it the normal way.”

 

Koga heaves a noisy sigh as Rei almost immediately releases Kaoru and pulls back, bursting into tears anew. “Don’t _tell him_ ,” he grouses. “You’re a shitty husband, now he’s gonna cry even more.” 

 

“Oi, what do you know about what kind of husband I am?” Kaoru complains, shifting so he can sit on Rei, hopefully crushing him a little. “You’re a puppy, your people think it’s weird if husbands don’t have a dick knot.”

 

“So what? It _is_ weird,” Koga bluntly says, heaving himself to his feet and padding over. He bites into his own wrist, drawing twin pinpricks of blood to the surface before he shoves it into Rei’s mouth, shutting him up before he can start wailing again. He only flinches slightly when Rei bites down, and he glowers up at Kaoru. “And I’m _not_ a puppy, I’m a wolf. You’re a stupid knight, you gotta take care of him or he’s gonna go crazy.” 

 

“You’re like five!” Kaoru protests, folding his arms across his chest. “I just found out about all of this, be nice to me. You’re a brat, bring back Taiga.”

 

“No, my dad’s busy.” Koga stares back at him, unfazed about having his blood slurped upon if one doesn’t count the slight wobble in his arm. Rei releases him after another moment, and sags down into the cushions, curling up underneath his blanket with a shaky exhale, eyes closed and blood-stained mouth slack. “He’s gonna be out for a minute—you gotta let him eat for real next time. From you.” He rubs at his wrist, shrugging. “You’ve got fancy blood, it’ll probably help. I know he’s gonna steal his mate at some point, but…not yet.” 

 

Kaoru looks down at the passed-out Rei, then shifts off of him, folding his arms and leaning in close to the kid. “Tell me about this…mate. What’s he like? Do I have to worry that he’s going to make trouble?”

 

Koga snorts as he plops down onto the floor again, scratching behind his ear into the thick fluff of his hair. “Depends what you mean by trouble. He’s _prissy_.” 

 

“Eh? Prissy? Isn’t he a wizard? Isn’t that, like…aren’t they the most powerful warriors?”

 

“ _Rei_ is,” Koga supplies. “But this one’s kinda shrieky. And fluttery. Real nervous. Pretty, though, and tall. Taller than you. Looks like he was probably money, but like…not really, y’know, the kind that used to be but fakes it. But now he’s a wizard, so that don’t matter. Also, his hair’s pink. Glamours are dumb.” 

 

“Wow,” Kaoru says flatly. “He sounds stupid. Really dumb. Ugh, and Rei can’t do _anything_ about this?” He slumps forward, head in his hands. “Damn. This is _awful_ , there should definitely be a rule against this happening to someone who’s already married.”

 

“It’s a magic thing, there’s nothing you can do about it.” Koga hesitates, and glances over to Rei, then back to Kaoru. “He’s whining a lot now, but that’s just ‘cause he can’t fuck anyone else,” he quietly says. “They were…real clingy. I don’t know much about wizard magic and stuff, but they…I dunno, hear it in the same way. Acted like it was a big deal, like it was a relief, almost. Rei was real mad when the Emperor made him leave. I’ve never seen him lose his temper like that…I don’t think he would’ve, if he had had the magic to burn the Academy to the ground.” 

 

The frank way that Koga says it makes Kaoru shiver a little. Rei is powerful, he knows that, has seen it in person multiple times—but the vast majority of their life together has been spent pursuing quieter, lovelier pleasures. “Good thing he doesn’t have that kind of magic, then. I mean, obviously he could level a regular building, but somewhere fortified like that…”

 

Koga chews on his lower lip, looking away again. “He’s had it before. He’ll get it again.”

 

“I’ll get it,” Rei dully agrees as he emerges from his coma, slowly pushing himself upright. He looks wrung out, shivering and gaunt where he sits, and he pushes his hair out of his face with one hand, staring at Kaoru with lidded eyes. “The Emperor is keeping what’s mine from me. I can feel right now what he’s doing to him. Eichi would be lucky if I killed him quickly.” 

 

“What’s his name? And, like, what’s so great about him?” Kaoru hears the wounded, bitchy pride in his own voice, and ignores how childish it is of him. He’s invested a hundred years, he can be a little cranky.

 

“Shu.” Rei pulls his blanket up to his chin. “Shu, of the Itsuki House.” He sighs, his shoulders heaving in a shrug. “He Hears it.” 

 

“Whatever that means,” Koga grouses, flopping onto his back on the floor. 

 

“I don’t know much else about him,” Rei admits. “Other than how talented of a wizard he is. Or that he’s…” He swallows, shrugging again. “I’m sorry, Kaoru. I don’t want to think about this, but I have to.” 

 

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Have I ever been jealous?” he demands. “I’ve had my women, you’ve had your men, it never matters at the end of the day, you know?”

 

“No, but I can hear it in your voice. I’m still sorry.” 

 

Kaoru winces. “Sorry. I know it’s not your fault. I just, uh…never thought you’d be coming to me with something like…this. A _mate_. Your _mate_.”

 

“If it makes you feel better at all, neither did I.” Rei’s expression twists, and he shucks his blanket, throwing his legs over the side of the chaise. He bends forward, burying his face into his hands for a moment. “If it makes you feel better…I’m already attempting to devise magic that will somehow…block this thing. I _can’t_ survive like this. Even if I was able to be with him, just sleeping with one person…that’s not enough. If I don’t kill him, he’ll wish he was dead, and that just makes me sick.” 

 

“And we’re really concerned with how one Shu of the Itsuki house is doing over everything else, right?” Kaoru licks his lips, hands fiddling in his lap. “Sorry. I’ll try not to kill him if I ever meet him. My instinct is telling me to end him, just so you know. Anyone who makes you like this…if I kill him, do you go back to normal?”

 

“If you keep talking like that,” Rei quietly says, lifting his face from his hands, “you’re going to have to leave.” 

 

Kaoru stands abruptly, stretching out his arms above his head. “Maybe I should. You can’t even touch me, right? You definitely don’t need a boring ex-paladin wastrel hanging around while you’re trying to deal with…whatever this is.” _And I don’t know how much I can hear about this guy before I go looking for my very shiny sword to kill him or me or both of us._

 

Rei opens his mouth to protest, then heaves a sigh, throwing up a hand. “I can’t even touch you,” he admits helplessly. “And it hurts, because I want to more than anything. I suppose now’s a good time to let you know that I’ve sent that prophet to live in High Harbor. At your manor. Safekeeping. The Academy can’t have him.” 

 

Kaoru turns the words over in his mouth for a while, then shrugs, starting to pick his bags up from the floor. “Fine. Give it to him. It’s yours, after all. Take care of the puppy.”

 

“Kaoru—“ 

 

Rei hesitates, lifting his head to watch Kaoru’s back as he moves, gnawing on his lower lip and wincing a bit when he tastes blood. “I’ll come find you,” he simply says instead. “When this is done. When I’ve fixed it. You’ll be the first one to know.” 

 

“Try my family’s place up in the Hinterlands,” Kaoru suggests. “I figured I’d tell you. You know, because there’s someone else that you feel all the time.” He pauses, hand on the door, and takes in a deep breath. “I’ll stop being a brat about it by then. I just have to…hate this for a while. Take care of yourself.” And if he’s lucky, he’ll make it out of the brothel before Rei sees him cry, which is highly embarrassing.

 

“You can keep being a brat about it all you want,” Rei softly says, flopping back down onto the cushions. Koga leaps onto the foot of the chaise, circles twice, and curls up at Rei’s feet as a scruffy wolf puppy instead of something human. “I’ll still love you. Be safe, husband.” 

 

Kaoru huffs, and yanks open the door. “And I’ll still love you even if you never fix this. Goodbye, wife.” Damn, didn’t quite make it out in time.


	45. Chapter 45

The Hinterlands in winter are brutal, and at any other time, Rei would never find himself here. 

 

But years have past, Shu is in the south, and here, so close to the North, so close to the Shadowlands, on the outskirts of the Sharps, the stirrings of unrest feel even more real. The manor that looms before him is what Kaoru had always called the ‘Go-Away House’; one that Rei has never seen, but heard stories about, and looks about as stern and stark as he would imagine a Holy Knight’s northern hideaway. 

 

It’s hard to imagine someone like Kaoru of the Hakaze family to be staying in a place like this, but Rei catches his scent as easily as he used to, and feels the thrum of that familiar strong, pure holy magic. 

 

“Go, as we discussed,” Rei softly says, and behind him, the flutter of several orange tails disappear into the forest. He sighs, straightening the heavy, fur-lined wizard’s robe so that he looks a bit less like he’s been traveling for weeks, and pushes the long, heavy fall of his hair back and out of his face, resecuring it back up into its thong at the nape of his neck. The last time he saw Kaoru—in a brothel, sobbing, as low as he’d ever been, hair cropped short and wild after months of being out at sea and in the Isles, chasing tiny wizards and prophets…well, at least he isn’t as much of a mess as he was then. 

 

He reaches out to knock, and pauses. The door itself, covered in charms and sigils, brings him pause, and instead of touching it, Rei bemusedly flicks a sliver of magic into it, watching it light up like a fireworks display within the Capital. _That_ should alert Kaoru—or someone—to his presence, at least.

 

Steel thuds on stone. The huge front doors open, revealing five suits of armor, each holding a wrought-iron spear, all animated in perfect unison, moving to point the spears at the intruder. There’s nothing behind any of those visors, ancient writings shimmering on each suit, breathing a semblance of life into the suits of long-dead paladins.

 

“Stop!”

 

The cry is hoarse and startled, as a figure with flyaway yellow hair in a loose nightshirt comes flying down the stairs, blue eyes wide. “Stop, stop! Ah, fuck, what’s the cursed passphrase—“ He fumbles for a moment, then cries out a word in an ancient, forgotten language, skidding to a halt as the suits freeze just a second before letting the spears fly.

 

“Fancy,” Rei calls out, grinning as he steps up to lay hand on one of the once-again inanimate suits of armor, poking at it with vague amusement. “Was this supposed to kill me? That would’ve certainly been something…ah, hello, by the way.” 

 

“Very funny,” Kaoru grunts, running a hand back through his hair. He pokes at one of the suits of armor himself, scowling as he tries to think. “Know any magic that’ll make them go back to the old position? You know, because some demon thought it would be funny to poke my wards and set my old family curses into motion?”

 

“I probably would’ve no matter what,” Rei admits, cocking his head as he lays his hand flat against one of the suits of armor, drumming long, black nails against it thoughtfully. Then, a low, long surge of magic leaves the ground rumbling, and each suit of armor slides back to its appropriate spot, tracing the path of the curse that had willed it to move in the first place. The only residue left behind is a few odd vines attempting to poke their way up through Kaoru’s floorboards, and Rei gently squashes one underneath his boot. “There you go. Anything else I should be worried about, or are you going to invite me inside? It’s cold out here.” 

 

Kaoru’s eyes widen, and he looks down at the ground, then back up at Rei’s face. “You—you’re feeding,” he whispers, a long-cold hope kindling in his eyes. “You’re properly feeding, is it—it’s that mate of yours, right?” _Not too stupid too fast, don’t go looking for something you know you can’t have, idiot paladin that never knows when to give up._

 

Rei spreads his hands, a soft smile on his face. “I told you that you’d be the first person I’d find when I fixed this mess, didn’t I?” 

 

_Fixed_.

 

Kaoru swallows hard, taking a small step forward, then stopping himself, trying to look at least a _little_ bit less like a lovelorn maiden. “And by fixed, you mean…”

 

“Do you really think I’d come all this way just to torment you?” Rei heaves a sigh, striding forward and dragging that heavy door shut behind him with a resounding _clang._ “Did I mention my mate is a brilliant wizard in his own right? Who doesn’t wish to be on his back all the damned time because he’s bonded to a sex wizard? He was quite enthusiastic about finding a way to numb our bond as well, so between the two of us…” 

 

“So you are still mated,” Kaoru says softly, leaning against one wall. “That part isn’t what you fixed, huh?” Part of him wants to grasp at what’s being offered, with all the loneliness of the last near-decade, but part of him, a stubborn, romantic, irrational part, still clings on. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t hoping that when you showed up, you’d be free of all that. But sure, I guess someone being tired of putting out for you is a good reason to say hello.”

 

“Breaking the bond isn’t an option, Kaoru. I told you that before.” Rei leans back against the door, staring back at him. “But I am free, as free as I’ll ever be, as much as I was before, when I met you. More so, maybe, because I don’t have to skulk about and hide myself all the time. Eichi is dead.” 

 

At that, Kaoru grins. “I heard. You know, I might be isolated up here in the Hinterlands, but I still get _mail_. I heard if I really want to get my money’s worth out of you, I should slap you out in my garden instead of my bedroom, right?”

 

“If you want enough crops that they’ll start rotting, just fuck me,” Rei wearily says. “My magic’s been a little…unrestrained? For the past couple of years. I’m not meant to be monogamous, as you and I both know. Naturally, I would prefer being slapped in the bedroom—gently, but still slapped.” He cracks a smile, tilting his head. “I loved you first, you know. Don’t tell me to leave after I kept my promise.” 

 

Kaoru wavers— _be mine, be only mine, you bastard, tell me I’m good enough at least_ —but it’s Rei. He’s never been able to say no to this man, not for more than a century, never been able to chase him away even if it would have been vastly more convenient for both of them. He takes a step forward, and lays a hand on Rei’s cheek, stroking his thumb gently over that pale skin. “I hated seeing you pull away from my touch,” he says softly. “I have bad dreams about that day.”

 

It would be a lie to say that Rei doesn’t brace himself. With Mika, in the Capital—that had been a successful experiment, but it barely counts. Both he and Shu knew that. The same applies to Mao, of course, with every treaty and contract between them. Kaoru is someone entirely unrelated, unattached, and to feel that touch without any hint of revulsion makes Rei exhale the breath he holds, his eyes sliding shut as he leans into the touch with a pleased, shivery sigh. “That’s awful,” he quietly says, turning his head to press a kiss to Kaoru’s wrist. “I only have good dreams about you.” 

 

“Oh, yeah?” Kaoru teases, almost pathetically relieved to see Rei _enjoying_ his touch again, that things really could get better. “Any part of me in particular? Hmm, maybe I should take you up to my room and you could show me…Er, actually, it’s kind of messy, we could always take one of the guest suites for a while.”

 

“Do you have a girl up there?” Rei dryly asks, nipping at Kaoru’s wrist this time and drawing a bead of blood to the surface of his skin. 

 

Kaoru snorts. “I wish. Nah, just a lot of empty and mostly-empty wine bottles, I’m afraid I’ve been quite a wretch for the last few weeks. And I got mad at the staff and sent them away. Speaking of girls, how’s your magic? Strong? Strong enough to, you know…?”

 

“You’re so predictable,” Rei complains, though there’s no actual irritation behind the words. He sighs, batting Kaoru’s hand away, and in a fluid motion, as if the light had shifted to reveal something that had always been there, Rei’s form shifts to that of a familiar, far more feminine frame, willowy limbs dwarfed instantly by the heavy wizard’s cloak that remains unchanged. “Happy?” she asks, batting her eyelashes _up_ at Kaoru. “Take care of me. Shu’s lovely and wonderful, but he likes one thing: being on his back. _I_ want to be petted for a change.” 

 

“Petting after,” Kaoru says, eyes alight at the sight of the form he’s missed for so long. His arms wind around Rei, and then he’s moving, dragging Rei up the long staircase to one of the guest suites, tossing him onto the bed. “Sorry about the dust, I just couldn’t wait. Are you telling me that all the sex you’ve had for nine years was on _top? You?_ ”

 

“To be _entirely_ correct, it was only for three years,” Rei laments, sprawling back into the enormous, soft bed with a satisfied sigh. “For six years after we spoke, I was celibate. I wanted to die, rest assured. But—yes, all the sex I’ve had for three years is with me on top.” His mouth twitches. “Don’t sound _so_ surprised, I’m capable.” 

 

“Oh, I know,” Kaoru assures him, rucking up his oversized, unlaced nightshirt, crawling onto the bed on top of Rei. “I love your capabilities, darling. I just wonder if you’re _happy_ that way.” He tosses one of Rei’s boots over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to that newly-exposed ankle.

 

Rei exhales a pleased sigh, wriggling his toes and reaching up to unlace his own shirt, tugging the layers open to reveal those heavy breasts that Kaoru is so fond of. “I’m happy enough. But now we _both_ can have what we want—I can chase after you, and _he_ can climb into bed with the Sandlands whore he keeps as a pet like he’s always wanted to. Bonds rarely ruin just one romance, you know.” 

 

“Wow,” Kaoru says, amused as he crawls between Rei’s legs, fastening his mouth over one nipple, suckling for a long minute, entirely distracted from his train of thought as he fills his mouth with creamy flesh. His mind fires back up after a while, and he raises his head, lips shiny and pink as he grins. “We haven’t been to the Sandlands for what, sixty years? Are the whores still so sweet?”

 

“Sweet _and_ pretty,” Rei sighs, eyes lidded as he watches Kaoru’s mouth on his flesh, stroking a hand through his hair and shivering as his nipples harden underneath the slide of that warm tongue. “This one’s a wizard, though, so that means he’s as mean as sin with a tongue as sharp as a knife. All wizards end up like that. Mmn, come back south with me.” 

 

“Sure,” Kaoru agrees easily, fingers working on the lacing of Rei’s trousers as he mouths over the other nipple, coaxing it to life as he comes back to life himself. It feels like it, like he’s been withering away in the dark and cold for years, only to look directly on the moon’s pale, healing light once again. “My love, I’ll go anywhere with you. Even to pick up your mate and his mean, pretty whore.”

 

“Stoooop, I only need one telepathic person in my life,” Rei says with a laugh, reaching up to unfasten the heavy cloak from around his shoulders, letting it fall back into the bed in a heap of layered fur and silk. His chest heaves, and his thighs spread with only a slight tremor running through him. It’s _odd_ , having someone else touch him after what feels like forever, but the way his magic thrums and pulses makes it readily apparent how _necessary_ it is. “Mika. That’s his name. You’d like him, he’s your type. Tiny, dark hair and lots of it, bossy, likes being petted only by the people he likes, brings around strange animals that he thinks are cute…” 

 

“Has it really been so long,” Kaoru teases, dragging his hands up Rei’s clothed thighs, then fastening back to those perfect breasts, “since we were together, that you think my type is a boy, sweetheart? You’re the exception, not the rule. No one is as beautiful as you.”

 

“I’m going to remember that when you meet him and think he’s a girl,” Rei teases right back, an uncontrollable shiver raking up his spine when Kaoru’s hands slide up along his skin. “You said…you weren’t going to pet me until afterwards,” he groans, licking at his lips. “Kaoruuu…I’m hungry, let me remember how good you taste.” 

 

“Can’t help it,” Kaoru says with a grin, pressing kiss after kiss to Rei’s breasts, up to his neck, finally his mouth. “You’re so lovely, how can I not pet you a little? Nnh, help me get these trousers off, I’ll remind you why you should only be in skirts without undergarments, like a real virile paladin’s lady.”

 

“That sounds preferable to fifteen million fancy things,” Rei breathes, tilting his head up to kiss Kaoru back, then to nip at his lower lip, the tips of his fangs dragging against the skin gently. He doesn’t draw blood, but he can still smell it, and that makes his chest heave with overeagerness. Rei shifts, arching his back, helping to kick off his trousers and leave him naked save for the shirt half-clinging to him. “I _missed_ you.” 

 

Kaoru nestles his knees between Rei’s, the head of his cock rubbing against Rei’s slit as he tilts his head to the side, presenting the throbbing carotid artery for Rei to nibble on. “You ever put this pretty thing on for him?” he breathes, easing the head in, cursing at how _tight_ Rei is after so long. “Mm, no, I can feel it, this is just for me, isn’t it?”

 

“A-ahh…fuck, _fuck_ ,” Rei whimpers, his nails biting down into Kaoru’s back as his head falls back, panting up towards the ceiling. His legs shake, thighs clamping down around Kaoru’s waist as he rocks up to meet him. “J…just for you,” he breathlessly agrees, tongue dragging over his bared fangs before he arches up, fastening his mouth to Kaoru’s neck and biting down hungrily. 

 

The startling, heady pleasure that shoots through Kaoru makes him whimper, just as it used to do when he was young, in love, and thought he and Rei were going to be together forever. He arches and gasps, pressing his neck against Rei’s mouth, rocking hungrily into Rei with every sweet pulse of his envenomed blood. “Love you,” he mutters, embarrassed and high, sliding deep into Rei’s cunt. “Make you mine again—“

 

Rei’s chest heaves as Kaoru slides in so deep that he swears he can taste him in his throat—or he would be able to, if he didn’t taste anything but Kaoru’s blood on his tongue, fresh and sweet and mind-numbing. He releases Kaoru’s throat with a gasp, head falling back as he arches his back, fangs bared to the ceiling as he grinds down, riding Kaoru’s cock as it sinks in deep, squeezing tight around it and wincing with that slick, heady ache. “Love you, too,” he dazedly breathes, hands sliding down low around the curve of Kaoru’s ass, squeezing and urging him to stay in deep. It’s even more satisfying now, somehow, after so long, after so long not being _able_ to do this, and Rei hears his voice break into breathless, eager whimpers. 

 

Like this, it’s easy to forget everything. It’s easy to forget they’re not meant to be, that Rei has a mate, that they’re fated enemies from a different century, and the demon is doing a better job adapting to the current era than the holy knight is. All that matters are the sweet curves and delicious suction of Rei’s body, touching and squeezing and welcoming him in, hands on his ass, mouth as hot and sweet as it’s ever been. “It’ll take this time,” he murmurs, hips canting in hard, feeling their bodies slap hard together. “It _has_ to, baby, it feels so right…”

 

Rei’s breath stutters, the hot, overstimulated prick of tears rising immediately to his eyes. “It b-better,” he rasps, throwing an arm over his face as his hips grind down desperately, the slap of Kaoru’s skin against his own making him shudder and clench down harder, biting his lip when that just makes Kaoru feel even bigger inside. “Ah—gods, you’re—I s-swear you feel bigger now, it’s been too loooong…” 

 

He trails off as his muscles twitch and jerk, finally too overstimulated to handle it, his orgasm leaving him arching and clinging harder to Kaoru through every tremor.

 

“I heard…it takes better…if the woman spills first,” Kaoru says with a groan, hips canting in hard as he finally spills, filling Rei with every slap of his hips. “Ahh…my beauty…no one does this like you, drink me down…”

 

Rei shudders as he sags down, melting into the bed underneath Kaoru’s weight, and the thrumming, thudding pulse of magic that washes over him like an enormous tidal wave. He breathes deep, head falling back, and shuts his eyes as he just basks in how it feels to feed on _anyone_ other than Shu again. “Get hard again,” he hears himself mumble dazedly. “I want…to keep trying.” 

 

Kaoru grins, hair plastered to his face with sweat, and he props himself up on an elbow, tracing a finger over Rei’s chest, down through his cleavage. “Have I ever had a problem with doing that?” he asks mildly, cock twitching softly inside Rei. “If I take too long, just give me the old Dustling treatment, hmm? That thing you used to do with your finger?”

 

“Mmn…yeah, I remember,” Rei murmurs, stretching out with a pleased, sated sigh. He squeezes his thighs loosely about Kaoru’s waist, making no attempt to move away. “Gods, it feels good just to _fuck_ again. And you’re so…so _good_ at it. I feel like a person again.” 

 

Kaoru presses gently in, flexing more than thrusting, in and out slowly to the cadence of his breath. “I fucked you back to personhood,” he says with a smile, hands sliding up and down Rei’s sides. “I’ll take that as a testimonial, thanks.”

 

“I haven’t felt like a person in years, you’re fixing me,” Rei groans, biting his lip as he savors the slow, pleasant ache of Kaoru moving so languidly inside of him. “Ahh, just…just hold on for a second, don’t move, I’m all squishy.” 

 

“Squishy? That sounds good, right?” Kaoru stills, kissing Rei deeply, enjoying the way it aches between the two of them, that delicious twinge of feeling he always gets around this man, this one in particular. “You sure you want me inside? Or does my tongue need to be there next? Ah, just tell me if you’re about to lose the magic, I definitely don’t want my cock caught in you when your pretty pussy disappears.”

 

“I’m so full up, there’s no way it’s going anywhere.” The overstimulation _keeps_ making Rei shiver, and he pets a hand absently through Kaoru’s hair, eyes unfocusing to stare at nothing as he just… _basks._ “You can do whatever you want to me. Ahh, gods, I’m so glad you were here…safe…no one could even get _close_ to you when all hell broke loose…” 

 

Kaoru’s grin is rakish, and he tweaks one of Rei’s nipples. “Don’t lie, you didn’t even think about me, your mind was all full of that frilly, fussy _mate_ of yours. One lonely holy knight up in the cold Hinterlands isn’t enough to make you blink.”

 

Rei purrs rather than squeaks, back arching lazily up into that touch. “You don’t know _what_ I was thinking about over the past few years,” he huffs, stroking his fingers down Kaoru’s spine. “I definitely jerked off and thought about you all the time. And…I definitely sent spies up here on multiple occasions to make sure you were fine. Sounds like you’ve been spying on me, too, if you know how fussy Shu is.” 

 

“The puppy blabbed about him,” Kaoru insists, fiddling with that nipple, watching Rei pant and arch under him. “I’m totally cut off, you know. Absolutely isolated. You don’t get less connected than this. And I _definitely_ didn’t hire one of those weird traditionalists from over the hill to Gaze you guys whenever I was lonely. Nope, totally cut off. Who’s the king again?”

 

“Lee…o, ahh…” Rei flexes his nails in deliberately, dragging them up Kaoru’s back. “I was the king…for a few weeks,” he says with a laugh. “No thanks. Being the _Demon_ King and Emperor is already too much. Now it’s this…tiny, scrappy _brat_ of a human…he’s a good person, but a total mess these days…mmnn, what else did you see with your weird traditionalist? Shu’s lovely, isn’t he?” 

 

“Absolutely not my type,” Kaoru says with a laugh. “I only got a glimpse, it was a couple of years ago. I saw him having a meltdown about some kind of bird painting in a tower wall? And then you showed up and calmed him down, there was no sound, so I got bored and put my hand through the water.”

 

“He’s…very particular, I find it charming.” Rei’s lips twitch faintly. “He’s definitely not your type. Which is good, I don’t have to worry about you trying to poach him from me. Though that,” he absently, dreamily trails off, “would be a _very_ fun threesome…hmm…” 

 

Kaoru shrugs. “I’m always up for a threesome,” he allows, and his cock twitches in agreement, still buried inside Rei. “Oh, remind me to introduce you to the cute, mean little traditionalist, he’s weirder than the rest of his family.”

 

“Weird can be fun. Mmn, roll over, I want to shove my tits in your face,” Rei mumbles, giving Kaoru’s ass a half-heartedly slap. “What else, what else…oh. There’s another half-blood that is definitely your type. You’ll meet him, if we’re galavanting about. Ass like a woman’s.” 

 

Kaoru rolls happily onto his back, presenting his face for tit-shoving. “Don’t know why you always tell me there are all these men I’ll like, but I’ll tumble anyone for you, sweet.”

 

“ _Because_ group sex is fun, and your cock is my favorite, so I want you involved in every capacity,” Rei sternly reminds him, settling down to straddle Kaoru’s hips before flopping forward and doing _exactly_ as promised, tits shoved into Kaoru’s face. “I _need_ you to come south with me.” 

 

Kaoru lets out a happy, absolutely unintelligible mess of syllables, muffled in thirty pounds of flesh.

 

Rei props his chin up into one hand, sighing heavily. “That’s what I thought. You’ll be less happy when I say it’s not just to go whoring.” 

 

The next muffled sounds are a bit disgruntled, followed by a soft bite before Kaoru surfaces. “Why would anyone ever go down to that cesspit except to throw coins at pretty flesh? You develop a hunger for sand?”

 

“We can still go whoring—while we investigate a few things.” Rei smiles, sitting back enough to pull his breasts at least mostly out of the way, thumbing affectionately over the bite left behind. “While you’re my bodyguard…more or less.” 

 

“Bodyguard?” Kaoru gnaws his lip slowly. “In my official capacity, or am I supposed to be your mysterious friend with a sword that just happens to glow when demons are around?”

 

“That one.” Rei straightens up, combing long hair back from his face and tossing it back over one shoulder. “It would be rather suspicious if I suddenly had a holy knight on retainer, but…if I’m being entirely truthful, it can only be you.” He grimaces. “You’re the only one that knows about my one _very_ particular weakness.” 

 

Kaoru grimaces, propping up on his elbows. “Female magic user, huh? I hate those, I always feel like such a bastard going after them. Do I get any info, or is this particular muscle just flying blind?”

 

“Female Enhanced, my least favorite,” Rei grouses, grabbing one of Kaoru’s hands and pulling it up to one breast, just wanting to be touched. “She’s very powerful. Powerful enough to allude other magic users and keep running a slave ring for years now…powerful enough that her magic passed on. She has a Nooncloak son, whether she knows it or not.” 

 

“Ugh, too many magic users floating around these days,” Kaoru says with a sigh, gently stroking over the breast against his hand, pressing a kiss to Rei’s neck. He strokes a foot up the back of Rei’s leg, then down again, remembering how a hungry Rei loves to be touched. “I miss when demons were just ugly bastards we hit with swords until they were dead, that was lovely, eh?”

 

“I’m not good at hitting anything with a sword, but I remember when it was easy to just slap things around with magic and win,” Rei quietly says, huddling up against Kaoru’s chest, his eyes lidding. “Everyone thinks I take so much pleasure from…all of this. Sneaking about, planning, plotting, manipulating. Even Shu, sometimes…the way he looks at me…” 

 

“That’s dumb,” Kaoru says softly, stroking up and down Rei’s back. “They’ve never spent a dozen quiet summers with you, just playing stupid word games and playing sitar while we grew way too many flowers up and down the manor walls.”

 

“Maybe not,” Rei says softly. “But I suppose I haven’t given anyone else any reason to think better of me. You have the best hands, you know?” Rei butts his face directly into Kaoru’s neck, breathing in deep. “So you’ll come with me?” 

 

Kaoru pulls back, raising one eyebrow as he looks at him. “Have I ever said no?”

 

Rei pouts, lower lip jutting out deliberately. “No, but…you have to promise not to hate me after this, all right? My mate might be around sometimes, and so might some of my friends that you’ll find questionable—for example, one’s a Wavebred.” 

 

Kaoru’s lip curls instinctively. “I’m not having a threesome with a Deepling, before you ask, you pervert. I…ugh, I at least promise I won’t throw the first blow, is that good enough?”

 

“I don’t want a threesome with him, that’s not what I’m saying,” Rei hastily says, fluttering a hand. “That promise is plenty, thank you. I just wanted to warn you—he’s integral to some of my plans, and beside that, I’m charged with keeping him safe right now. Please call him a Wavebred to his face, it’s the proper term and you know it.” 

 

Kaoru makes a face, dragging a hand down it. “I don’t like it. I don’t like working with them, I don’t like them, and I don’t like catering to their precious feelings. How can you possibly be friends with one of them, you’ve _seen_ the shit they do!”

 

Rei’s lips part, and he sighs, turning over his words before he speaks again. “This one’s different,” he finally settles upon. “Probably because he has a half-human parent. He’s not just a Wavebred, he’s a wizard, so he has to answer to me. And he has a clean record, and,” he adds before Kaoru can roll his eyes and protest further, “he’s bonded to a _human_ , one who works for me. If he misbehaves, it’s easy to hold that over his head. I’ll point out which one is his to you, too, so you can keep that up your sleeve.” 

 

Kaoru subsides, but folds his arms over his chest, unhappy grumbles in his throat. “I don’t like it. I already promised I won’t throw the first strike, though, so that should be good enough. Who else? I assume it’s not _just_ us and a Deepling, you always did like a big crew.”

 

“Is that how I come off?” Rei pouts, stroking a hand down to Kaoru’s hip, thumbing over the jut of bone. “Well, it’ll be us, a Wavebred—Kanata is his name, by the way, let’s start calling him by that—maybe his bonded, who is currently watching over your estate in High Harbor, by the way, and…if I have my way, the Captain of the Kingsguard and whomever he drags along with him. I’ve already sent multiple spies ahead of me to the Sandlands—including, because he’s stubborn and clearly wants to give me heart palpitations, my own mate.” 

 

Kaoru slowly drums his fingers against the bed. “And none of them can know who I am,” he states for the record, turning the facts over in his mind. “Are any of them old enough to remember that we’re married? If not, I’m guessing that’s a secret, too. Unless you told your…mate.”

 

Rei smiles and scoots closer, deliberately pressing his breasts against Kaoru’s chest. “Let’s save that for the big reveal where you save my life as a dashing knight, shall we?” 

 

“Aaaand that sounds like no,” Kaoru says with a sigh, but at least there are boobs. Boobs are good, and distract him quite handily from how moody he’s starting to feel. “What’s the mission, besides protecting you while you bother dangerous people?”

 

“Officially? A few noble children were kidnapped and sold into slavery. Get them back. But I want more than that—I want the trade done and over for good, so I need to kill the queen of the hive. I have connections to the royal family funding it all, and their youngest prince that wants it demolished as well.” Rei slings a leg over Kaoru’s hip, squishing himself closer. “Ah. Kanata is probably old enough to remember—our marriage, I mean. He won’t say anything, though, he doesn’t care.” 

 

Kaoru snorts. “Of course he won’t, fish don’t care about marriage, and it’s not something he can eat. Poor bastard, whoever’s bonded to that. You’re really trying to get rid of the slave trade? The _whole_ slave trade? Our people tried to move against it years ago, there are too many of them.”

 

“Well…the worst of it,” Rei hedges, reaching up to fiddle with the ends of Kaoru’s hair. “The unwilling kind. A misnomer, isn’t it, to call them slaves when most of them _want_ to be bought and sold? This is the dangerous kind, though, the kind that doesn’t contribute to the Sandlands economy because it’s selling to disgusting Capital denizens, so it’s just ruining lives. _Children’s_ lives. Officially, I have no stance on this, but I’m telling you privately that it turns my stomach. The king turns his nose up at me because I’m ‘noncommittal and uncooperative’ and because I still have my brothel down there, collecting the little things.” 

 

“Politics,” Kaoru says gloomily. “Somehow, you got suckered into politics, after all these years of staying out. You _hate_ politics.”

 

“I _hate_ it, so, _so_ much,” Rei laments in agreement, his lower lip wobbling. “And I’m _bad_ at it. But they all think I’m so good and treat me like I’m the end-all-be-all, and I’m very, very sick of it already. I’m expected to have an opinion about everything and if it doesn’t coincide with the king’s, then _I’m_ the problem, always.” 

 

“Does the king know?” Kaoru asks mildly, trailing a finger down Rei’s nose, then tapping his chin. “I mean, I assume he knows you’re a Nightcloak, and maybe a demon, but does he know you’ve been living in his kingdom for centuries? That you used to bounce his grandfather on your knee?”

 

“The king,” Rei moodily says, “assumes I’m conspiring against him at any given time, and that I only have eyes for Shu’s opinions. He’s wrong, but he was also bonded to Eichi, so now he’s crazier than he was before. I don’t think he quite understands how much I _know_ at any given time; explaining to someone that I’m centuries old never goes as well as it used to.” 

 

Kaoru sits up, eyes wide. “The _king_ ,” he repeats slowly, “was bonded to Eichi? Wait, I thought that was a wizard-only club, that’s why it—“ _Never happened with us._

 

“Wizards can bond to anyone. Both don’t have to be wizards, but…one of them does.” Rei grimaces, glancing aside. “Eichi snapped their bond before he died. That’s why Leo isn’t dead, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less…unstable.” 

 

“Wow, what a great king he sounds like,” Kaoru says with a sigh. “I haven’t seen him since I had to bring all the gifts to his birth, but he sounds like a piece of work. This country, I tell you, it’s not what it used to be. Heh, I sound like my grandmother, she always used to talk about the good old days, I guess….it’s easy when you get this old.”

 

“He’ll be a good king if he doesn’t off himself first,” Rei wearily says, and he noses up into Kaoru’s chest again, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I wish I had bonded to you,” he murmurs. “But we don’t get to choose those kinds of things. I love Shu, but I loved you first.” 

 

Regret wells up in Kaoru, and the deep sorrow that he’s been carrying around for the last decade, driving him to drink and cold and this lonely mountain mansion, and he turns onto his side, facing away. “I know it isn’t your fault,” he says quietly to the wall. “I’ve had a long time to get used to it, all right? Just…do me a favor. Play with me, fuck me, enjoy me, but don’t pretend we can go back to the way it was. You’ve still got that bond, and you wouldn’t get rid of it if you could.”

 

Rei curls up against Kaoru’s back, winding his arms around him and burying his face into the back of his neck. “Even if I wasn’t bonded…it can’t go back to the way it was,” he softly says. “I’m the Emperor now _and_ the Demon King. We were sort of doomed from the start, Sir Holy Knight.” 

 

“Yeah,” Kaoru says softly, and doesn’t pull away, hands dropping to squeeze Rei’s forearms. “It’s just…lame. It’s hard, when we’re like this, not to think it’s going to be like that.”

 

“When we’re running about saving the world,” Rei says, butting his head against Kaoru’s back, “we’ll have fun, too. And I can stare at your ass while you’re swinging that sword around. It’s my favorite.” 

 

“And after that?” Kaoru asks, staring straight ahead at the wall. “You go back to your tower, right? And I stay here. And you come visit when you want fun. And if you’re lucky, no one ever finds out you spent a century in my arms. All the loose ends tucked away.”

 

“Would you rather I publicly declare you my consort?” Rei suddenly asks, sitting up and staring down at Kaoru through the messy tumble of his hair. “I will. I’m not afraid of what anyone will say. I don’t care if Shu doesn’t like it, he knows who and what I am.” 

 

“Stop it.” There’s an edge of steel in Kaoru’s voice, but he doesn’t move, staring still ahead. “If you wanted to do that, you’d have done it years ago. I’m not trying to barge into your marriage.” He spits the last word, mouth twisting. “He might know what you are, but I doubt that extends to something like this.”

 

“Years ago, I was trying to keep Eichi from ruining the lives of every single wizard and from murdering me, forgive me if my first priority wasn’t declaring the names of those I’d like to spend the rest of my life together,” Rei flatly says. “I’m _married_ to you, _bonded_ to him—if you want to call them both marriage, then fine, but then you’ve as much right as he to be announced at my side. I haven’t told anyone because of _your_ status. In spite of how we like to be together, I’m still a man, and more than that, a demon. If you aren’t formally disowned yet, you will be.” 

 

Something hard and sick curls in the pit of Kaoru’s stomach. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it about me. I never held back—I married you!” He sits up, some of the lonely pain of the last decade showing in his eyes. “Rei…just leave me alone, when this is done. Just leave me alone. I’ve gotten used to it. At least one of us should have a home, and I don’t belong in yours.”

 

“That’s not fair.” Rei’s voice is quiet, his fingers slowly curling into the bedsheets. “The Academy isn’t my home, and neither is the Shadowlands. I belong as little as you do.” 

 

“None of this is fair, Rei.” Kaoru shoves his hair back from his face. “If you want to build a life with me, all you have to do is come up here, or go to High Harbor and send for me. I’ve…I’ve been unofficially disowned for years, but I can’t stop being what I am any more than you can, and a holy paladin _can’t_ live in a wizard’s tower, you know that. It’d unmake me.”

 

“So come back to High Harbor. I’m there whenever I can be, whenever I’m not working, and that’s no different than before.” Rei leans closer, biting his lip as he pauses, flipping words around in his head. “Kaoru…maybe I didn’t handle any of this well before, but I’m trying now. I’ll do whatever you want—except leave you alone, I can’t do that.”

 

Kaoru stares at Rei for a long minute, searching his eyes for answers. Then, finally he throws up his hands. “Yeah. All right. To every damned hell with it, when all of this is over…I’ll move back into my house. And I’ll wait there.”

 

Rei shifts closer, his fingers curling around Kaoru’s thigh. “It’s going to be a lot less waiting,” he very seriously says, “and a lot more entertaining. You vastly overestimate how much time I like spending within the Academy.” 

 

Kaoru grins. “That place is an abomination, you know,” he says conversationally. “And according to my scripture, someday the gods will purge you false idols from the country. See, even if you were just a wizard, I’d still be disowned for being with you, male or not.”

 

“Sexy.” Rei bats his eyelashes, sliding his arms up and around Kaoru’s neck, trying to hide the little, relieved tremor that runs through them. “Did you hear? I decorated the whole Academy with dogs.”

 

“How many puppies did the latest Oogami sire?” Kaoru asks, flabbergasted.

 

“Eh? Oh, none, actually. I meant just—dog things. Like figurines. Shu makes them all the time when I told him I liked dogs. It’s good.” 

 

“O-oh. That sounds…festive?”

 

“I think it’s much better than the previous doom and gloom that the Academy looked like, even if Shu…takes my love of dogs a _bit_ too far,” Rei says with a laugh, his hands sliding up through Kaoru’s hair to muss it. “Kao~ru. I like you too much to let you escape me, you know.” The deep red of his eyes glitter. “It’s not often a holy knight gives themselves to someone like me.” 

 

A deep, red-tinged shiver runs through Kaoru, making him shiver down to his toes. He pauses for a long moment, then launches himself at Rei, kissing him deeply, teeth nipping into his lips, hands grabbing his shoulders tightly. “Or that a demon rusts themselves to a paladin,” he growls, his own teeth glinting in the low light. “We’re both dangerous.”

 

Rei’s mouth parts hungrily, fangs catching against Kaoru’s lower lip delicately enough that no blood draws to the surface, but the razor sharp strength of them is still so _easily_ felt. “That’s the most fun,” he purrs, nails biting into Kaoru’s back as he topples over with a laugh, dragging Kaoru with him. “And if no one knows about either, that’s when we’re at our most lethal. I love it.” 

 

_You never thought that before_ , Kaoru almost says but instead, bites that swollen bottom lip again, maybe a little harder than he’d intended, tasting blood. “I like being lethal with you. Those…whoever the fuck we’re fighting, they won’t know what hit them.”

 

“Shitty child slavers?” Rei teases, tongue flicking out to taste his own blood, shivering a little when Kaoru’s own taste lingers behind as well. “When’s the last time you’ve actually been in action, huh?” 

 

Kaoru snorts. “In the Hinterlands? I’m lucky if an especially mean deer wanders by my place and starts bothering my geese. Though, you know, I’m not really supposed to fight humans with my holy weapons.”

 

“Enhanced are different.” Rei sighs, mouthing a kiss back down to Kaoru’s neck, sucking slowly on the thud of his pulse. “They’re…mnn. Barely human. The really strong ones have struck up odd deals here and there with creatures that are definitely not human. How is your skin _so_ soft?” 

 

“Not bad for an old geezer, eh?” Kaoru teases, breath catching as he tilts his head to the side. “Damn, you were really hungry, weren’t you? Promise you’ll at least kick the nonhumans towards me, my sword doesn’t work on full humans, and I’m not too sure about Enhanced.”

 

“We can test it on one of the Academy brats,” Rei murmurs, sucking firmly enough to leave a hickey behind, then moving onto another spot to leave a second mark. “Just, mm, keep the girls away from me. No one else is allowed to know. And yes, I was hungry, and I’m still _starving_ …”

 

Kaoru leans in, then pauses, frowning as he goes perfectly still, listening hard. “Something’s tripped my wards,” he murmurs, and jumps out of bed, grabbing for his nightshirt. “You bringing friends?”

 

“No.” Rei frowns, and a flutter of shadow returns his form to that of his usual male one (and, as per usual, anatomy is more or less the only thing that changes). “I sent away my children—er, spies, before stepping past your wards,” he adds, plucking his cloak up and sweeping it up and around his shoulders. 

 

Kaoru tugs on his shirt, then runs to the window, looking down with a slight frown. “I think…this is one of yours, Rei. Ooh, and one of mine, that’s my traditionalist’s weird son, and he’s definitely wearing a dress, this promises fun.”

 

Rei follows after him, peering out of the window and heaving a sigh. “The little red-haired one is definitely mine,” he says, even as he hooks an arm around Kaoru’s waist from behind. “If you like, we can ignore them. That’s the prophet that cursed me to a life of forced monogamy.” 

 

“I thought he just foresaw it, not did it on purpose, right?” Kaoru drums his fingers on the windowsill, then winces when a blast of magic crackles against his wards. “Ouch. The little bitch is mean to my door. Guess we’d better let them in.”

 

“But I’m still hungry,” Rei murmurs, turning his face into the side of Kaoru’s neck and nuzzling up behind his ear, tongue snaking out to trace the shell of it. “And you’re still pretty. He’s not _technically_ mine, anyway; he belongs very much to another abomination, I can smell it from here. That must be what’s tripping your wards.” 

 

Another blast, and Kaoru grimaces. “He’s going to bring down my big, pretty doors if you don’t do something soon. And do _not_ offer to put them back up, last time you put a wall up in my house it didn’t stop growing for three months, I had to get five architects to fix the structural damage.”

 

A noisy sigh follows that. “Fine. Then let’s go down together; the odd little traditionalist isn’t the only one that wears dresses, trust me.” 


	46. Chapter 46

Kaoru knows before opening his eyes that Rei is gone.

 

It isn’t magic. It isn’t any sense of the holy knights that have raised and trained him. It’s the cold absence of a lover who’s disappeared before, letting Kaoru pick up the pieces. He breathes deeply before opening his eyes, and sees the empty spot where Rei’s bedroll had lain. He doesn’t have Rei’s skill of seeing magic everywhere, but hardly needs it to know that Rei had fed before leaving, and deeply. 

 

Slowly, he shrugs on his nightshirt and a pair of leggings, padding barefoot out to the predawn light, stretching slowly as grey light starts to give way to pink. “Of course you’re the first one up,” he says with a sigh, leaning on a tree’s gnarled trunk near the still form of the Deepling, who’s slowly rocking side to side. “You see him go?”

 

Kanata pauses, stilling for a moment as he stares up at Kaoru, eyes glowing that strange, inhuman green even in the morning light. “Rei?” he asks slowly, his head cocking to the side. “He…went away. I can contact him,” he adds, pulling out a single coin from the folds of his linen robes, rubbing his thumb over it. “But…once. Only once.”

 

“He’s an idiot, you know,” Kaoru says conversationally. “He’s not invincible. What the hell is the point of drafting muscle if you’re going to leave it behind without orders?” He looks down at Kanata, then scowls. “Never mind, you wouldn’t care.”

 

“He said…you knew about his plans.” Kanata’s stare lids, long, dark lashes hooding the gaze that follows every one of Kaoru’s movements. “Are paladins…so forgetful? Maybe…you’re the one that doesn’t care…” 

 

Kaoru’s hand twitches, fingers itching to grip the hilt of a sword. “I know the basic plan, but the details…what, did he tell you? I can smell him on you.”

 

Kanata’s eyes flick down to Kaoru’s hand, then back up to his face again. “Last night…we didn’t _talk_ very much.” 

 

Damn. Too transparent. Kaoru folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the tree. “Yeah, I bet. You’re bonded to that Captain that’s looking after my city, right? How does that work?”

 

Kanata’s lips purse. “Rei…has been telling you things,” he slowly replies, climbing to his feet in a rather wobbly fashion, as if human legs are still an oddity to him (they are). “What do you mean…’how does it work’?” 

 

“I mean, I heard that a bond between a wizard or whatever, neither of them can touch anyone else.” Kaoru’s fingers itch again, but this time they twitch for a pipe or a drink, rather than his sword. “You don’t seem to have a problem with that, though.”

 

“Oh…no…that only happens…when it’s very strong.” Kanata shakes his head firmly, tendrils of long blue hair spilling free of the haphazard braid it’s wrapped up into in the process. “Rei’s…is what you are thinking of. It’s special. Strange. Too strong. Chiaki…” He trails off, shrugging. “He can’t feel it…so…it doesn’t hurt us…” 

 

Kaoru looks up at the sunrise for a moment, then down at the weird creature, watching his hair ebb and flow down his back. “I heard you’re basically a baby for your kind,” he says finally, crouching down to rest on his heels. “Rei says you’ve never killed a human. That true?”

 

“…if I say I have, are you going to kill me?” Kanata wobbles, slumping back down a moment later. He huffs, looking entirely too grumpy about his legs existing. “I’m twenty-five,” he moodily says. “Is that…what old men like you call…’babies’?”

 

Kaoru grins, though it’s not as cheerful as usual, and has a hint of tooth. “Most people can’t tell how old I am. Compared to most of your kind that I’ve fought, yeah, that’s what I’d call a baby.”

 

“My father…was half-human. What would you say…to humans that bed ‘my kind’?” Kanata’s eyebrows slowly raise. “Or do you judge them…considering who _you_ lie with?” 

 

Kaoru raises his hands. “Hey, I’m not the bedding police. It’s just the slow murdering of human kids I’m against. I don’t care what special caves anyone wants to spelunk.”

 

“That wasn’t _my_ clan. We…are being hunted, too. By slavers. Collectors. By _your_ people,” Kanata flatly says. “Because you think all of us…are the same.” 

 

“The only time I’ve ever hunted Deeplings is in pursuit of captured kids,” Kaoru says, anger rising in his tone. “If you don’t want responsibility for all of you, don’t put all of my people’s sins on me. I left them for a reason.”

 

“You still carry their sword. Their wards.” Kanata’s words are cold, but his stare is intent. “Do not…call me that name.” 

 

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Sorry, _Wavebred_. Wouldn’t want to slander such a lovely and storied breed of monsters.”

 

Kanata’s teeth bare, and he lurches to his feet with far more grace than before, knocking Kaoru flat onto his back with long, sharp nails pressed at his throat. “If you don’t want to be grouped in with paladins, maybe stop acting like them,” he hisses, eyes slitted. “ _You_ are a monster.” 

 

Kaoru tries to lurch up, but Kanata has him dead to rights, flat on his back at his mercy. Kaoru’s teeth bare in turn, and he wishes he had fangs to match, every fiber in his body tense, aching to grab a sword. 

 

“ _He’s not like the rest of them_ ,” Rei says in his memory.

 

He swallows hard, and sucks in a breath. “I’d hate it if people all thought I was like them,” he finally grinds out, letting his head fall back against the ground. “You haven’t done anything to me or mine. I…I was an ass. I’m sorry.”

 

Kanata’s chest heaves with a hard, heavy breath. His nails curl, but barely even graze the skin, not drawing a droplet of blood to the surface as he considers, watches, and slowly, begrudgingly, draws his hand away. He sits back onto Kaoru’s thighs, still scowling down at him, mouth twisted into a deep pout. “Kanata,” he says grumpily. The unhappy, tense flutters of his magic make the escaped waves of his hair float about as if suspended in the sea even now. “My name…is Kanata. Not _Deepling_. Not Wavebred.” 

 

“Kaoru.” Kaoru sits up slowly, rubbing at his neck. “I, uh…yeah. Wrong foot. Or fin, if that makes you more comfortable.”

 

_He’s not like the rest of them, he’s not one of them, don’t see those dead kids every time you close your eyes, it’s been years, forget it, forget them…_

 

He swallows hard. “You don’t wanna hear about everything I’ve seen. And honestly, I don’t want to hear about all the crap that you’ve probably seen my family do. I ran away for a reason, I assume you did the same. Rei spoke for you, that should be enough.” It should be, even though his emotions churn, and he wants to tell Rei he’s an _idiot_ , that they shouldn’t ever be trusted.

 

“My family…sent me away. Because it isn’t safe.” Kanata frowns at him, curling his hands into fists atop his own thighs so that he doesn’t slice into anything accidentally. “Not…because of paladins. Not this time. Your kind did execute my father, though,” he absently recalls. “Because…he was a ‘sympathizer.’ For being a half-blood. Rei protects me now.” 

 

Kaoru shoves his hair back from his face. “Gross. I hate that mentality. Just so you know. And like you said, if they really knew about me, they’d probably execute me, too. I haven’t lived by their rules since I was…damn, younger than you. And that was almost a century and a half ago.”

 

“Mmmmm. You’re really…really…really… _really_ old.” 

 

Kaoru winks tiredly. “I use seaweed on my face, keeps me looking fresh. We do age, though. And honestly, most of us die as young as regular humans, we’re not any stronger than them.”

 

“But you’re old. So you’re stronger.” Kanata’s head tilts, and he leans in, close enough that Kaoru can easily feel his breath on his face. “Oooor, you’re Rei’s favorite.” 

 

Kaoru turns to face him, humor gone from his eyes. “I’ve gone to the trouble of being kind to you, Kanata,” he says quietly. “If you don’t want to do me the same courtesy, this conversation can end.”

 

Kanata blinks, confusion clouding his expression. “I thought…I was being friendly,” he sulkily says, drawing back. “Do you…not like Rei that much, actually?” 

 

_Damn_. Kaoru’s mouth tightens, and he sits on the ground, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’ve never talked to a…a Wavebred this much,” he admits. “I thought you were mocking me. Yeah, yeah, I like him…plenty. It’s just a secret.”

 

Kanata watches him for a moment longer before plopping down next to him, sitting cross-legged on the ground. “A secret,” he echoes, tilting his head to the side. “But he left bites all over you. You smell like him. Why…is it a secret…?” 

 

“Not…not that.” Kaoru looks around, and rakes the hair back from his face again. “You were off the shore of High Harbor a decade ago, right? You must know we used to live there.”

 

“I was small. And hiding. The bad Emperor wanted to keep me in a fish tank.” 

 

“Yuck. I stayed clear of him, as much as possible. You know, with all the genocide he was fond of.” Kaoru traces a pattern in the dirt, his other hand reaching back to the grassblades. “That’s all awfully dark, isn’t it? Heh, what do you think of Souma?”

 

“Dumb.” Kanata’s eyes narrow. “But maybe tasty. He calls me ‘Queen’, but that’s not right. That’s my mother. I think…he wants me to order him around.” 

 

“Weird kid, right?” Kaoru finally relaxes, and he plucks a blade of grass from the ground. “You think my family is weird, theirs is _super_ weird. I’m pretty sure he worships you. Like, literally.”

 

Kanata wrinkles his nose. “Very…very weird,” he agrees. “He likes turtles…an awful lot. I think…his family is the kind that used to want to be eaten by us. He keeps talking to me…and following me around…but I don’t want to eat him. Does he know Rei won’t marry him…?” 

 

Kaoru’s smile is wry. “Wanting to marry Rei is kind of a human disease, I think. But as far as I know, I’m the only one who’s actually done it.”

 

Kanata’s eyes widen, and he claps his hands together slowly. “Congratulations…ah…but…it must have been awhile ago…yes? He likes you…a lot…oooh, that explains…why he immediately went north, heh…” 

 

“He said you already knew about it,” Kaoru says with a sigh. “I should have known he was full of it. Yeah, it’s good, but it’s not like he isn’t bonded to that other guy, right? Ugh, that sounds so dumb, forget I said it.”

 

“Rei says things to make more things happen,” Kanata says with a fluttery wave of understanding. “And that other guy…Shu…he’s my friend. He’s good. He has…other ‘connections’, too. Like Rei does. But…more complicated, I think…” 

 

“It’s not like we were ever exclusive,” Kaoru mutters, feeling more like an idiot with every second, unable to stop the words. “I mean, it would be dumb to be with a sex wizard and expect him to keep it in his pants, wouldn’t it?”

 

Kanata reaches out to pat the top of Kaoru’s head without thinking. “Rei…is very good,” he sympathetically says. “I know why someone…would want him all to themselves.” 

 

Without any more thought, Kaoru leans into that weird, vaguely moist touch, seeking comfort. “It’s been a decade,” he whispers. “Since I had him all to myself. You’d think I’d get over it. Have you ever…been really lonely, Kanata?”

 

Kanata pets both hands down the sides of Kaoru’s hair, stroking slowly. “Mm…Chiaki…lives on the land. I…have to live in the sea. Pretending to be human…is very hard,” he crossly adds. “So I don’t do it. I can’t. I miss him…all the time…and he can’t even hear me…or feel me, through our bond. So…I’m lonely…almost all the time.” 

 

“He seems like a nice guy,” Kaoru says softly, eyes closing slowly. “Really genuine. Good heart, and warm. You can just tell with some people.”

 

“Chiaki…is also very good.” Kanata curls his fingers, scratching his nails carefully along Kaoru’s scalp. “Warm and good. He and Rei…are good friends. Kaoru…” He leans closer, peering at Kaoru’s face before his hands slide down, squishing his cheeks. “Rei…he takes care of everyone…but you take care of him. I can tell…the way you two are around each other. It’s good.” 

 

Kaoru’s eyes sting, and he blinks rapidly. “You, too,” he manages, before he says something really embarrassing. “Sometimes you can just…tell the quality of a person by the kind of people that love them, you know?”

 

Kanata’s head tilts, and he leans forward, promptly licking up the one streak of a tear that escapes down Kaoru’s cheek. “Salty,” he approves. “It’s so _dry_ here. Stop leaking…or Rei will worry.” 

 

Kaoru squeaks, pulling back at the surprising sensation. “U-um…Yeah, I don’t usually let people…whatever, it’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “And Rei isn’t worrying, he’s gone, remember? You were his travel snack, right?”

 

“Chiaki was,” Kanata corrects, blinking back up at him and dropping his hands. “Pure humans…are the tastiest. That’s why he really likes feeding from you. But he’ll still worry. You should find him.” 

 

“If he wanted me with him, he’d have woken me up,” Kaoru says with a shrug. “And if he wanted a snack on the road, he could have brought me. He wants me here, watching over all these people he holds dear, you know? I’ll do what he wants. For now.”

 

“…You know him best…” Kanata settles upon, swaying a little where he sits. “The Sandlands…are bad, though. Too dry. Don’t…let him get lost there, he’s silly.” 

 

“Humans and demons don’t mind dryness, you know,” Kaoru says, managing a little grin. “I think that’s way more like your people who have a problem with it.” He pauses, then adds, “And you’re right. I _do_ know him best.”

 

“The dryness _is_ bad,” Kanata moodily retorts, looking sulky about it immediately. “You know Rei. You don’t know _everything._ ” 

 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Kaoru teases, reaching out to touch Kanata’s hair on instinct, finding it oddly flowy and soft. “Just because I’m a land creature doesn’t mean I don’t love the ocean. I do, I really do.”

 

Kanata’s lower lip juts in a deep pout. “But you left High Harbor,” he points out. “To go up where it’s dry _and_ cold. Rei told me about that, when he was drunk,” he says. “And depressed. Maybe that’s why he thought I knew you two were married…” 

 

Kaoru snorts. “Yeah, because it was too sad for me to stay in the house we lived in for a century without him,” he says, and realizes how pathetic that sounds only after the words are out of his mouth. “I know that sounds sad. But I…” He sighs, and turns to face Kanata, scooting closer to him. “Look, you want to know why I left the paladins?”

 

“…Because…you fell in love with a demon?” 

 

Kaoru shakes his head. “I left them before I met Rei. Years before. It wasn’t for love.”

 

Kanata blinks back at him, contemplative, then he slowly nods, reaching up to pull his mess of a braid over one shoulder and unwind it, finally sick of the fly-aways that literally keep trying to fly away with the occasional odd current of magic fluttering off of him, and needing to fix it. “I believe…that you aren’t bad, like them,” he carefully says. “But proof…is always better.” 

 

“It…hey, do you want me to braid that?” Kaoru wiggles his fingers. “I’m great at it, ask anyone. I’ll braid it while we talk.”

 

Kanata looks skeptical for a moment, then releases his hair into Kaoru’s custody. “It wants to go,” he offers up simply. “It misses the sea, maybe…I know my magic does…” 

 

“I used to know a girl with hair like this,” Kaoru says cheerfully, scooting around so his front is to Kanata’s back, deftly untwisting his braid. “No fear, no fear, maybe my holy fingers will frighten the strands back into balance, heh. Anyway.” He’s silent for a moment, finger-combing Kanata’s hair, corralling the wayward strands into good behavior. “Their lives are so ugly. I wanted to live a life full of beautiful things. All they think about is tributes and the family name and how to get more tributes to the family name. They don’t care about helping people, they only want to defeat demons when those demons are threatening rich people, or their constituents. They don’t care that the paladins are supposed to serve the whole country, they just say things like, ‘Oh, that’s when there were more of us, now that there aren’t so many we have to protect our own.’ As if being a holy knight with a charge directly from the gods was ever supposed to be about protecting our own?”

 

“…That sounds…a lot like how the bad Emperor started running the Academy,” Kanata muses, holding still to let Kaoru work, his eyes lidded in thought as he picks absently at the hem of his sleeve. “Or how some of the other clans of Wavebred started acting…about humans, or ‘protecting’ their own…I guess…bad people are usually bad in the same way, huh…” 

 

“Their stories don’t teach that way,” Kaoru says quietly, smoothing the flyaways, corralling the mess of hair into a rather lovely braid, starting at the crown of Kanata’s head. “Their stories, the ones they raise us on? They teach that we always protect whoever needs us the most, whoever’s afflicted by the powers of darkness. You know, we have swords that don’t kill humans.”

 

“Do they teach you…how to kill humans in other ways, then…?” Kanata wryly asks, watching out of the corner of his eye as a tendril of hair tries to knot itself around Kaoru’s wrist. Hmm. “It seems silly…to go through all the trouble of having a fancy sword…if you aren’t using it properly…you know?” 

 

“Properly?” Kaoru asks, eyebrows raised. “You think it’s more proper to kill humans than to kill demons?”

 

“That…was a joke.” Kanata pauses. “Maybe…a bad one. It’s okay…my kind…don’t understand my jokes either.” 

 

Kaoru cracks a smile, and bats the rogue tendril back into place, smoothing it gently into its braid. “If it helps, my kind understand mine, they just hate them.”

 

“My mother…blames it on my father,” Kanata cheerfully says, eyes lidded as he tilts his head back to peer at Kaoru. “Because…he had human in him. I don’t know why my kind want to eat humans,” he adds suddenly. “They taste strange. Souma…wants me to eat him, I think?” 

 

“Nah, not really,” Kaoru says with a sigh. “He’s a weird kid, but he doesn’t want to die, not really. He just likes the old stories of your kind taking his kind as sacrifices. I bet he’d let you eat him in other ways, though.”

 

Kanata pauses to consider that for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “He said…something like…’if _you_ were my wife…I bet you’d dominate me.’ He’s…not very subtle…” 

 

“Ah, no. He wants you to fuck him. And he’s embarrassingly obvious about it. I bet if you told him he was a sacrifice, he’d spill on the spot.”

 

“Sounds…messy.” 

 

Kaoru shrugs, and ties a deft, lovely knot in the end of the braid. “He’s pretty, though. And he has a good, pure heart. If it were another era, my kind would recruit him.”

 

“Even though…he wants to be nibbled on…by a Wavebred?” Kanata asks archly, twisting partially around to peer directly at Kaoru. “He’s…not my type.” 

 

Kaoru feels a sudden rush of heady contact run through him, and he lets go of the braid, cheeks coloring as he looks away. “You go in for high-energy warriors of truth and justice, don’t you? Sounds like your type to me.”

 

“I…” Kanata pauses, thinking it through. “Like handsome boys…that are good with swords. With good hands. And can swim.” 

 

“How…specific,” Kaoru manages, feeling the blush grow in his cheeks. “How many of those are there running around, huh?”

 

“Mmmn…two.” 

 

“L-lucky boys.”

 

“And…you?” Kanata slowly asks, turning around entirely and leaning in, peering into Kaoru’s face. “What…do you like?” 

 

Kaoru opens his mouth to say _girls_ , but what comes out is, “Good-hearted even if they’ve got shitty family. Tall. Gorgeous. Sharp teeth, sharper wit. Just on the border of something I should kill and something that should kill me. And…really great hair.”

 

Kanata’s eyebrows raise slowly. “And…how many of _those_ …are running around…Kao~ru?” 

 

“Ah…I think that would be…about two.”

 

“Then…we’re the same.” Kanata smiles, allowing a brief flash of sharp fangs to show. “I bet…you taste good.” 

 

“I bet I do, too,” Kaoru says with a grin, leaning a little bit closer. “I’ve always heard I do. Ever tasted a holy knight before?”

 

Kanata pauses, thinking, and then slowly shakes his head. A curl of a fly away still somehow manages to free itself from Kaoru’s far more expertly done braid. “I wonder…” He reaches out, running his fingers down Kaoru’s chest. “If you’re nice and warm inside…like Chiaki is…?” 

 

“I, ah…think that’s the kind of thing you’d have to find out for yourself,” Kaoru says, breath coming a little more quickly as he leans in. “Are you sure you can play around without your brightly burning boy around?”

 

Kanata blinks, contemplative, then simply scoots forward, tilts his head, and grabs Kaoru’s face up in one long-fingered hand, dragging him in to kiss him. When he withdraws, it’s with a long drag of tongue, tasting the sticky-slick inside of his mouth thoroughly. “Mmm…nothing feels bad,” he thoughtfully says, releasing Kaoru’s face as he leans back, running his tongue over his lower lip. “He does it with the snake when I’m not here, though…so…it shouldn’t be different…” 

 

“I just don’t wanna fight him,” Kaoru says with a grin, letting his hands come up to rest on Kanata’s hips, fingertips digging in gently. “Jealous lovers are a total drag. You want to…take this into my tent, maybe? I’m sure that weird kid will be getting up to practice his swordsmanship in a moment. Unless you want him to put his hands all over this…”

 

“Chiaki…isn’t the jealous type…but Souma…is dumb,” Kanata agrees, eyeing Kaoru for a moment before nodding, and wobbling his way back up to his feet. “I…don’t really want to play with him.” 

 

Kaoru stands smoothly, not a hint of his age in the motion, taking Kanata’s hand to lead him back to his tent. A niggling tinge of guilt threads through him, which is _stupid_ , since Rei sleeps with everyone he can and he’s never felt hesitant about such a thing before. _It’s never been a man before,_ he thinks, idiotically, as he ties the tent flap shut. “Playing with you sounds fun, though.”

 

Kanata’s eyes lid before he flops forward into Kaoru’s chest, arms sliding around his neck. “I think…I’m fun,” he says softly. “My mother…would punish us both…for this. But it seems…worth it. Like…making a treaty, heh.” 

 

Kaoru’s smile glints in the low light. “If my grandparents found out, they’d say execution was too good for me,” he admits, though it doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm much. “Rei is one thing, but a D—a Wavebred, that’s something else.”

 

“Rei…is the Demon King,” Kanata slowly points out, amusement flickering across his face. “And I’m…still worse?”

 

“To my grandparents? Oh, yeah.” Kaoru shrugs, his smile dimming slightly. “They were on the front lines during the last Incursion. I must have heard the story a thousand times, even if it was five hundred years ago. My grandfather’s the oldest surviving member of his line, the rest all died that day. That was…oh, that was the Fukai clan of your people, right?”

 

Kanata exhales a breath through his nose and gives Kaoru a firm shove, toppling him over onto his bed roll with far more strength than his slender from belies. He plants his hands to either side of Kaoru’s head, leaning over him. “My mother’s brother’s clan,” he says. “He’s dead now. She ate him, and became Queen.” 

 

Kaoru’s breath stutters, and he reaches up to unfasten every tie he can reach on Kanata’s clothing, legs splaying out along the ground. “So I’m rolling over for the nephew of the Scourge of the Holy Order? Hot.”

 

“One day…I’ll be the Queen,” Kanata says with an amused little smile, lifting a hand to idly drag it down Kaoru’s chest, his long nails fraying fabric. He shrugs off the top layers of his robes, breathing a sigh of relief. “Clothes…are bad,” he crossly adds, pulling at Kaoru’s laces. 

 

“Easy, easy, your nails are sharp,” Kaoru protests with a laugh, shucking his leggings and tossing his nightshirt back over his shoulder. His hands come up to brace on Kanata’s chest, eyebrows rising. “You’re a lot stronger than you look with your robes on,” he notices, fingertips trailing the cleft between the other man’s pectorals.

 

“Sorry…about the nails…” Kanata glowers at them for a moment before shrugging, and pouncing onto Kaoru again, breath hot against his ear. “If you let me have you in the water…you’d know exactly how strong I am,” he breathes, nipping carefully so that he doesn’t break the skin. “I’ll try not to bite…too hard…Rei wouldn’t like that, I can smell him all over you…” 

 

“Yeah, it’s supposed to smell like that,” Kaoru says firmly, and tries to twist over. “With another guy, I prefer it…nnh, I hate lying on my back, you know?”

 

“Like a girl,” Kanata absently observes, but he obliges without protest, flipping Kaoru over effortlessly. His mouth presses to the back of Kaoru’s neck, sucking on the skin as his hands drag down to Kaoru’s hips, trying not to let his nails bite in too much when he grinds forward languidly, the hard line of his cock rubbing against the curve of Kaoru’s ass. 

 

The second Kaoru gets facedown, his nervousness disappears, eyes sliding closed as he shifts up onto his knees, rubbing back eagerly on the stiff shaft pressing against him. “You, nnh, you do this often, with that big strong Captain of yours?” That’s a pretty image, even if it’s not his usual fantasy material.

 

“Mmn…he’s a lot smaller when all that armor’s off…” Kanata’s mouth roams over the back of Kaoru’s shoulders, sucking, biting carefully. “He likes it like this, too,” he murmurs, sighing out a breath at how it feels to just rub against Kaoru, letting their skin slide against one another. With the sun rising, it’s already getting hotter, and at least sweating makes him feel a little less like he’s drying out. Another little bite, and he does draw blood this time, the taste of it making him shiver. “You…mmn. You taste… _very_ good…”

 

“It’s all the holiness,” Kaoru gasps, reaching down to give his cock a slow stroke as he arches. “It’s in my veins or whatev-ver, aahhh, it feels really different when you d-do it than when Rei does…”

 

“In a good way…?” Kanata distractedly asks, trying not to bite down again until Kaoru confirms if it’s good or not. Chiaki’s reactions, at least, have beaten being _careful_ into him. He slides a hand between them to ease his cock out, settling more steadily onto his knees, and letting the head of it drag against that tight hole. “If you have oil…gimme,” he murmurs, licking a stripe up the side of Kaoru’s neck. 

 

“Fuck,” Kaoru groans, letting his forehead thunk onto his bedroll, one hand flapping uselessly to the side. “In that bag, the leather one, there’s a whole, a whole thing, a big skin of it, put it on and get in, yeah?”

 

“Kaoru…is surprisingly…kind of a slut,” Kanata observes with vague amusement in his voice, pulling back to grab up the bag in question and pull out the skin of oil. It drips messily over his palm, over his cock, and he slicks it up the length of it before letting it nudge against that tight hole again. “Is it okay…if I nibble a little…?” he breathes, planting a hand next to Kaoru’s head as he rocks forward, that first, aching press easing the head of his cock inside. 

 

Kaoru nearly agrees without conditions, but remembers not to be an idiot at the last second, some of his ancestors’ teachings about Wavebred flaring in his mind. “Don’t…take any flesh,” he clarifies, reaching back to spread himself open, one finger dragging through the oil to tug at the side of his hole, brushing against the thick, pulsing cock sliding into him. “Nnh, that’s good, that’s so good—one big swallow or three little sips, _fuck_ , that’s good, you’re so thick—“

 

“I know better…than to _eat_ you,” Kanata gasps, glancing down at where Kaoru is being spread open, where they’re gradually becoming connected as he rocks forward, careful not to go too fast. His thighs tremble from the effort, but Kaoru is _tight_ , and his cock spreads open that hole impossibly wide. “You’re…mnn…you’re so _hot_ inside…” Kanata breathes, his eyes fluttering as he dips his head down, tongue dragging over the curve of Kaoru’s shoulder before he bites down, not drinking, just _holding_ , muffling the low, rumbling growl that wells up in his throat. 

 

“It’s been—a long—time—“ Kaoru’s voice is a ragged whimper, and he bites down on his own forearm, bracing himself against the ground to better push back, knowing from experience how much _better_ it’ll be once the whole thing is bottomed out inside of him. 

 

When Rei bites, it feels like liquid heat, coursing through his veins. When Kanata does it, it feels like he’s melting, like pleasure is slithering its way inside of him, taking him over. “That’s—you’re so _big_ , angle it down, I’ll come for ages—“

 

Kanata releases Kaoru’s skin for a moment, panting open-mouthed against his back as he grabs at Kaoru’s hips, hiking them up to make it easier to do just that. He thrusts in hard, hissing out a breath through clenched teeth when he slides in long and deep. “Good…?” he breathlessly asks, holding still for a moment, savoring how Kaoru squeezes and tightens around him. He idly slides a hand up Kaoru’s chest, thumbing over one of his nipples. “Ahh…these are really hard, too…” 

 

Kaoru lets out a low, heated curse, his cock starting to leak in a slow, steady stream over his bedroll. It doesn’t feel like it’ll ever stop, when Kanata toys with his chest, when the thick head of Kanata’s cock drags against his hole with every slick thrust. “If you keep…touching me like this, fuck, yeah, I’m just going to keep coming…”

 

“Good.”

 

It’s the last Kanata offers him before biting down again, sharp teeth sinking into Kaoru’s shoulder and holding tight as he grinds in hard, each thrust leaving the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in his ears. He pinches, pulls at that nipple as he ruts in, taking his _time_ to fuck in deep. The taste of Kaoru’s skin underneath his teeth and tongue—his sweat, the pinpricks of blood he allows himself—makes his own cock throb inside, dripping with every roll of his hips. 

 

Kaoru’s mind starts to fuzz pleasantly out into bliss, and his eyes squeeze shut, his whole body tense and shivering and relaxed all at once. He bucks lazily back against Kanata, just enjoying each pulse and tug of sensation inside his body. “N-next time, I’ll eat you for a change,” he slurs, hands fisting in his pillow. “Or maybe just…this again, yeah, that sounds real good…”

 

Another, harder bite, and that _truly_ draws blood to the surface, which Kanata laps up with a low, hungry groan. Wavebred don’t drink like Bloodbred; his teeth aren’t fangs that make for perfect piercing tools, but instead, all of them are sharp, enough to cut soft, human skin and bring blood welling to the surface for him to lap and suck up. “Kaoru…can eat me if he wants,” Kanata murmurs, shoving in harder deliberately, sliding an arm more securely around Kaoru’s waist to yank him back onto his cock. “But I think…you like it when you’re eaten a lot more, huh? Mmm, here…” 

 

Kanata drags him back, forcing Kaoru to sit back into his lap as he kneels, yank him down onto his cock. “It’s in sooo far like this…” he sighs, nuzzling into Kaoru’s neck, rocking up languidly. “Be a good boy…and I’ll come in you, okay…?” 

 

“You’re so much stronger than you look,” Kaoru groans, flopping down on Kanata’s lap, legs splaying to help him kneel, spread wide, sinking down on Kanata’s cock with every deep thrust. It goes far deeper like this, enough to make him whimper, so full with each rock that he presses a hand to his stomach, though all he feels is his own taut abs. “Feels like I could, fuck, like, like I could feel you all up here all the way to my chest, gods—“

 

“Good, maybe…I’ll stay there,” Kanata breathes, his hands gripping Kaoru’s hips tightly as he fucks up slowly, licking at his lips at the way Kaoru squeezes down around him with every movement. “Kaoru…you…mmnn…you really like this, huh?” 

 

Steadying Kaoru with his hands, it’s much easier to grind up, to keep fucking him slow and deep, with each powerful thrust filling him as completely as possible. Kanata gives up on talking, his breath escaping fast and hard into the crook of his shoulder as every drip of his cock makes it slicker inside, easier to grind in until his self-control snaps, and Kanata spills with a low growling noise, stilling and yanking Kaoru down to make sure every drop stays _inside_. 

 

Feeling Kanata come inside of him frees another spurt of liquid from Kaoru’s cock, and he gasps, hands digging into Kanata’s thighs. “Yeah,” he breathes, though it’s hardly necessary at this point. “Yeah, yeah, I like it, you feel so good in me, just stay there for a while.”

 

“Mm…o~kay…” 

 

Kanata tips forward again, crushing Kaoru down to the bedroll underneath his weight, and keeping his cock buried to the hilt in the process. “What if,” he whispers into Kaoru’s ear, sounding _completely_ serious, “I laid my eggs in you?” 

 

Kaoru’s hole twitches involuntarily, and he gulps. “You know what, fine, at this point,” he groans, flopping facefirst down to the ground. “As long as you stay in me, you feel so good there.”

 

“Ahh…really?” Kanata asks with a slow blink. “I was joking…but maybe I’ll do it for real…ah, they won’t hatch, though,” he sadly says, petting a hand through Kaoru’s sweaty hair. 

 

“Don’t really want you to,” Kaoru admits. “It just sounds kinda hot.”

 

“I can’t, anyway,” Kanata grumbles. “Wizard eggs don’t work. I’ll just come in you a few more times.” 

 

“Fair enough. God, you’re big, how do you walk upright?”

 

“Not…very well? Legs are hard…”

 

“Not the only thing, heh….”

 

Kanata rolls his eyes, and deliberately grinds in again to make a point of that. “Rei’s bigger,” he says carelessly. “I know. Guess you like that.” 

 

A squeak makes its way out of Kaoru’s mouth. “Nnh, yeah, but we don’t…do this that often.”

 

“No?” Kanata can’t help but sound curious. “Ah…he does like it the other way, but I’m surprised you do…”

 

“He turns into a girl. He’s got enormous tits, they’re very pretty.”

 

“Ooooh.” Kanata settles down comfortable, plastered to Kaoru’s back. His braid is now decidedly mussed, and he unravels the end of it, letting it spill over the two of them in a fluffy, curly mess that still looks, somehow, as if it just came from the sea. “I win there.” 

 

“You…win there?” Kaoru asks, his mind pleasantly fuzzy. “You keep ‘em in an underwater cave?”

 

“My clan’s line…is matriarchal,” Kanata hums, licking slowly at one of Kaoru’s bites. “So eventually…I’ll have to go be a girl all the time…so I can be the Queen. I’ve done it before. They’re bigger than Rei’s.” 

 

Kaoru sags down to the ground, toes slowly curling. “Hot. Please show me someday. But right now…how long do you think we have until everyone gets up and needs us?”

 

“Maybe…fifteen minutes,” Kanata sighs, stretching and in the process, rolling his hips forward slowly. “Maybe…I can make you come again…?” 

 

“Doubtless,” Kaoru says with a grin, stretching his hands up above his head, toes wriggling as he squirms down. “As long as you stay hard and keep, nnh, stirring me up inside…”

 

“It takes awhile for me…to get soft,” Kanata murmurs, leaning up to suck on the lobe of Kaoru’s ear as his hips grind forward, easy and deep. “So let’s see…if you can come at least one more time…” 

 

“What the hell, where’s my horse?!”

 

Kanata doesn’t pause, though he does roll his eyes, amused. “Rei should’ve left a note,” he idly notes as he plucks at one of Kaoru’s nipples. “‘Sorry, I stole the demon bitch mare’…” 

 

“That’s the Captain of—fuck—the guard,” Kaoru manages, belly rolling as he bucks down on Kanata’s cock. “If he comes back in—in here, if he comes in here, just, ah, pull a pillow over my head or something.”

 

“Mmnnn? But what if I want…to show you off…?” Kanata absently asks, grabbing Kaoru’s arms to drag him down onto his cock harder, being a bit less _nice_ this time about how hard he fucks in. “He’s a half-blood, too, if that’s what you like~…” 

 

The real answer is that Izumi is a _lot_ of what Kaoru likes, and he’s kind of avoided the guy for exactly this reason. He tries to wriggle, but Kanata is just as strong as he’s been saying, and his arms are held fast. He’s trapped in place, beautifully stuck, held as a toy for Kanata to use and boss around and _fuck_ , and that makes his cock lurch back to life. “I like this right now,” he manages, and bites down on his pillow.

 

Kanata just giggles, the sound muffled into Kaoru’s hair as he bends forward, grabbing onto him tightly as he grinds in, his cock sinking in deep with each thrust, the quiet slap of skin against skin coming faster and faster with each ragged breath that escapes past Kanata’s lips.

 

The second time he comes is faster, more abrupt as he buries himself inside, spilling slick and messy inside with every single pulse of his cock. 

 

Kaoru’s muscles all give out at once, and he lays there and shudders, laying in a puddle of his own mess, feeling Kanata so deep inside he’s aching, spilling over and over. “Too much,” he finally whines, arms twitching, the gesture futile against Kanata’s hold. “Give me—pull out, give me a second, I can’t breathe…”

 

“Ooooi, Kaoru,” comes Izumi’s snap as he yanks open the front of the tent. “Did you hear anyone leave in the middle of the night and take my—“

 

Kanata twists around abruptly, teeth bared as he snaps in Izumi’s direction, sharp nails digging possessively into Kaoru as he holds him down. Izumi bolts backwards, hands flying up defensively rather than going for his sword, knowing _very_ much how useless it is against someone like Kanata. “Sorry—sorry, I didn’t realize, I’m not trying to _take_ him, geez—Chiaki!” he hastily adds, bolting away from the tent in short order. “Kanata’s being…that way!” 

 

Kanata growls, flopping down and wrapping all four limbs around Kaoru. 

 

“Let go of me,” Kaoru says very seriously, breath tight with pain. “Or the holy magic is going to flare, and you’re going to get very, very hurt.”

 

It takes Kanata a moment to unwind himself and calm down, peeling himself away as if untangling his tentacles from Kaoru in the process. “Sorry,” he mumbles, slithering to the side. “I don’t like…being interrupted…are you okay…?” 

 

Kaoru sucks in a deep breath, and only a trickle of white light flares out of the nail holes in his skin, the flesh scabbing over in a heartbeat. Slowly, he gets to his feet, rubbing at his shoulders with a wince. “It only does that if it’s nonhuman-caused, nothing happens if it’s a blade or a human. Ooooi, Captain! You need something from me? Don’t wake that maniac, get back here!”

 

Kanata watches, mystified, tempted to reach out and poke at the magic in spite of how it will absolutely hurt. “That’s…really…really neat…” he says, eyes narrowing. “But it healed where I bit you, too.” 

 

Slowly, warily, the front of the tent opens up again, and Izumi’s head pokes inside. “Your tent’s the closest to where the horses are kept,” he neutrally says. “Did you hear anything?” 

 

Kanata slowly lurches forward again, clamping his jaws down around Kaoru’s shoulder.

 

“Oh my god. Call me back when you two are _done_ , fuck.” 

 

“The Demon King took it,” Kaoru says hastily, and bats Kanata away, or tries to. Those teeth are _sharp_. “He does that sometimes, you know. Just takes off with whatever shiny thing he likes best.”

 

A second later, Captain Morisawa skids up, shirtless, wide-eyed as he looks around, eyes trying to adjust, heavy with sleep and littered with two-holed bites all over his upper body. “Kanata? Is everything all right, is everyone all right? Ah, Captain Izumi, can I have a sword, is someone in danger?”

 

Kanata releases Kaoru a moment later, once he’s satisfied there’s a mark left behind, and beams up at Chiaki, making grabbing motions for him. “Chiaki~…good morning…” 

 

Izumi pauses, staring open-mouthed for a moment before he scowls, turning sharply on his heel. “Am I the only one that’s _not_ getting laid around here?” he crossly snaps. “Damn it, that was _my horse,_ Ritsu gave me that horse!” 

 

“Demon law,” Kaoru says, grabbing his nightshirt and tugging it on. “Anything once owned by a demon subject, once out of their hands, technically belongs to the Demon King, if he chooses to exercise his rights.” He grins. “And I don’t think Souma’s getting laid either, if that helps.”

 

“This isn’t the Shadowlands, this is the king’s domain! Demon law doesn’t _apply_ here—“ 

 

“Chiakiii, Kaoru and I are friends now,” Kanata hums, draping himself limply against Chiaki. “No more fighting, just like you asked~…”

 

Chiaki beams so brightly the dark circles under his eyes nearly disappear. “That’s wonderful news! Of course, anyone who meets you must be friends with you, you’re such a good and giving person.”

 

Kaoru slings an arm around Izumi’s shoulders, steering him away. “I’ve got some connections in these parts, actually, and one of them is _great_ with horseflesh, let me recommend you to one that’s a little less, um, murdery?”

 

“We’ve been building up a rapport,” Izumi moodily says, trying not to be grossly distracted by how Kaoru smells of nothing _but_ sex. “Bitch was a bitch, but she was _my_ bitch. No way in hell is someone going to find me a horse as good as that one, she was straight from the Shadowlands and everything.” 

 

“Well, yeah, but I can probably find you one that’ll bite you less,” Kaoru offers. “Unless you’re into that. Hey, uh, not to be weird, but are you sniffing me?”

 

“…No. Why would I be doing that?” 

 

“You just, you keep leaning in, and inhaling through your nose, so…”

 

“I’m not doing that. You’re the one with your arm around me. _You’re_ the one leaning in.” 

 

“Aww, do you have a crush on me? You jealous of all the love bites, hmm?”

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Izumi snaps, hastily ducking out from underneath Kaoru’s arm, cheeks flushed. “I’m not jealous and I—you—ugh, forget it, I’m going to figure out this stupid horse situation myself!” 

 

Kaoru waves goodbye, and blows him a kiss. “Let me know if you see any cute stablegirls! And try to get a date for the evening, horny and alone isn’t a good look on anyone!”


	47. Chapter 47

Rei isn’t exactly hard to find.

 

Kaoru had been casual about it at first, sauntering down towards the Sandlands with the rest of the motley party Rei had put together for a couple of days. Then, in the middle of the night, sickly dark magic had flared, waking Kaoru in a cold sweat. He’d been on his horse before he’d stopped sweating, knowing that magical signature, urging the beast faster, because it _must_ be a mistake, it couldn’t be what it feels like, he must be wrong, too old and forgetful, he must be wrong, he _must_ be.

 

Rei isn’t hard to find, not when Kaoru wants to, and he pulls his horse to a stop in front of a building that keen senses and long, _long_ practice tell him is a brothel of some kind. A coin flipped to a young boy waiting outside takes care of his horse, and Kaoru straightens his clothes, knowing the kind of walk he needs to look right at home in a house of pleasure. _Looking for a friend_ earns him a side-eye from the madam, who disappears upstairs, telling him to wait on one of the elegant little poofs arranged in the common space. Kaoru takes a poof, and tries to calm his thudding heart.

 

It must be a mistake. It _must_ be. Rei would never.

 

It only takes a few minutes before Rei drifts his way downstairs, yawning behind one hand. He looks the part of truly belonging within the Sandlands, with his curling, black hair bound back at the nape of his neck, eyes lined in kohl, and fluttery, airy robes donned instead of the heavy, velvet cloaks of the Academy. “Ah, Kaoru,” he greets, a smile on his face. _Casual_ is what he has to be until he gets Kaoru into a locked room, of course. “You’re late. Come upstairs with me, won’t you?” 

 

Kaoru lets a sweet, insouciant, hungry smile spread across his face. Perfect in front of the help. “Love to, sweetheart.”

 

The second they’re upstairs, the cheerful, horny demeanor evaporates, and something like dread filters across his face. “Tell me I didn’t feel what I thought I felt, Rei.”

 

Rei holds a finger up to his lips as he shuts the door firmly behind them, and with the lock clicking, at least a dozen wards flare up about the room in quick succession. The oil lamp next to the bed flutters, the flame’s movements highlighting the otherwise hidden protection runes traced out along the walls. “I wonder what you thought you felt,” he says once heavy silence fills the room. “I’ve been busy.” 

 

Kaoru brushes a fingertip on one of the runes, feeling it flare up to his touch. “Don’t play with me right now,” he says quietly. “I rode like hell to get here, and you’re making that more accurate than I want. Tell me I didn’t just feel you _thrall_ someone.”

 

Rei goes silent as he drops down onto the end of his bed. “I didn’t have a choice,” he settles upon, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “I really didn’t.” 

 

Kaoru’s face goes tight, and he very carefully avoids reaching for the hilt of his sword, every instinct in his soul urging him to strike, to cut down the evil menace, to drive away the very evil his line was created to protect. “There’s no situation where that’s the best choice, let alone the only choice. Undo it.”

 

“He’ll die,” Rei insists, looking up frantically. “Kaoru—he was going crazy. I’ve never, _ever_ thralled anyone in my entire life, but I didn’t have a choice here, I swear. His bond, it was broken, but that disgusting archdemon was trying to use the shreds of it to claw himself back to this realm—you _know_ they don’t die, not like humans do, and if they come back, they’re even stronger than before. I’m protecting him.” 

 

“Kill him.” Kaoru folds his arms, his expression brooking no argument. “We cannot have an enthralled king, Rei, you _know_ this! You—I’ve trusted you, I’ve trusted you for so long, I’d have said you’d _never_ do something like this—hell, I _did_ tell my family you’d never, ever, in a hundred thousand years, thrall someone!”

 

“If I kill him, we have _no_ king.” 

 

Rei sighs, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over his face. “I can’t do that. Kaoru, I can’t. He didn’t ask for that bond; he didn’t ask for it to ruin his life. Like this, he can be normal.” 

 

“We can crown another king.” Kaoru’s eyes burn with intensity, staring at Rei no matter how the other man tries to avoid his eyes. “Your soul is tainted by this. We _can’t_ have an enthralled king, we’d be better off in anarchy.”

 

“Do you really think I’m going to _use it?_ ” Rei snaps. “What would I ever even want from him that I don’t have, or can’t bring about myself? I’m _protecting him._ ” 

 

“‘And Lo, the most dangerous of all the fey creatures, dwelling between shadow and air,’” Kaoru quotes, his stomach turning, “‘are those that see themselves in fairest guise, for their powers of persuasion are the greatest under the sky.’ Rei, that’s literally the first line of the chapter on demons, you _know_ this, if you fool yourself into think you can control something this dangerous, it’ll control you!”

 

“So bind me.” Rei’s retort is a sullen one. “Or…whatever it is a holy knight does. I can’t believe you think I’m like something out of your _scripture_. I’m half-human, you know. My mate is human. I’m already going to get an earful from him, he’s not going to let me do a damned thing even if I wanted to— _which I don’t_.” 

 

“The fact that you don’t think there’s anything _wrong_ with this…” Kaoru wipes his hands down his face. “I don’t know what to do about this, Rei. This is literally the most evil act a demon can perform, my entire _order_ was created to stop this from happening!”

 

“…How is it evil when I was genuinely doing it to help him?” Rei exasperatedly asks, rolling onto his side. “Kaoru—you should have seen him. He was so pathetic, I couldn’t just…stand there. We’ve tried everything else.” 

 

“He should have died. You know that.” Kaoru folds his arms over his chest, looking tired. “I’m really hating that you’re putting me in this kind of position. I _hate_ having to agree with my gross family.”

 

“So don’t agree with them.” Rei hesitates, then reaches out a hand towards him. “Kaoru. You _know_ me.” 

 

Kaoru grits his teeth, and for the first time in over a hundred years, hesitates before taking Rei’s hand. _The beautiful demon, seductive to the weak-willed, touches emotions first, body next, mind last, for the mind of a paladin must be more pure even than the soul._

 

No. No, Rei can’t be one of those, despite how long a con it would have been. He sighs, and takes Rei’s hand, squeezing it. “Don’t ask me to watch something like this happen. Kill the king. You know deep down it’s the right thing to do.”

 

“No. He’s a _good_ person, I was just trying to save him.” Rei twines his fingers with Kaoru’s, squeezing his hand, tugging him closer. “But I’ll make you a deal. If for some reason I _am_ tempted to use that thrall… _then_ I’ll kill him.” 

 

Kaoru sucks in a breath, then nods, letting his eyes close. “Just know. If you do anything with it, and you don’t make good on that? I’ll have to…intervene. Rei, don’t make me do that.”

 

“You’ve known me for over a century, and you really think I’d do that,” Rei mutters, pulling Kaoru’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If there’s something that will make you feel better about this, I’ll do it. Outside of killing him, obviously.”

 

“Of course I don’t think you’d do that,” Kaoru says with a sigh, flopping down onto the bed on his side. “But I would never in a century have thought you’d thrall anyone, so…”

 

“It was the only thing I _could_ do.” Rei slides up closer, plastering himself up against Kaoru. “ _This_ is how you greet me—scolding me, and smelling like Kanata.” 

 

“Don’t try to distract me right now, and no, I _don’t_ know of any way to make me comfortable, you—you _thralled_ him,” Kaoru repeats again, sounding more flabbergasted than upset now. “You really thought this was the best thing? Convince me.”

 

Rei huffs out a breath, sliding both arms around Kaoru’s neck as he refuses to be pushed away. “Archdemons—you must know quite a bit about them, right, O Wise Holy Knight?” 

 

Kaoru nods slowly. “I don’t feel like quoting more scripture, but yeah, I know about them. Mostly dark fairy tales, and warnings that we shouldn’t try to face them without the full Order Circle convened.”

 

“Eichi was one.” Rei’s mouth twists. “Obviously, you know that now. But you _know_ how hard of a time I had dealing with him when he was right in front of me, even with our magic directly opposing each other’s—in death, Archdemons just return to the depths of the Shadowlands, but he left elaborate spellwork behind on our king. Letting that fester was driving him mad, especially combined with the remains of their resonant bond. I had to remove all of it—I had to dampen it, somehow, and nothing else would work. He _asked_ for it. I gave him options, temporary ones, but this is what he asked for.” 

 

“Did he know what it meant?” Kaoru’s voice is soft, pained. “Did he know that he was asking you to perform the darkest magic possible, and that any holy paladin would be compelled to kill either of you on site?”

 

“I don’t think he cared—or would care now, Kaoru.” Rei heaves a sigh, running a finger down Kaoru’s chest. “He just wants to feel right again. If my magic can do that and give him a semblance of a normal existence again, then fine. I’m not sorry.” 

 

“Even knowing?” Kaoru asks, catching that finger and kissing it. “Even knowing it could corrupt not just his soul beyond saving, but yours? And turn you into one of those monsters you’ve been fighting forever? And that—that you’ll be _tempted_ , you know you will, he’s the _king_ , what’s going to happen when he tries to cut the Academy’s budget and you could easily just nudge him the other way?”

 

“I’m in the bed of a dozen rich men. It’s not hard to get more money if I’m that hard up, but I’m _not_.” Rei’s lips purse, and he pokes at the end of Kaoru’s nose. “ _Kaoru_. You sound like a preacher.” 

 

“If you think that, you have _not_ been forced to sit through as many sermons as I have,” Kaoru protests. “I’m a concerned friend, an educated one. That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”

 

“But you’re refusing to listen to me at all. Because at the end of the day, you think that I’m inherently evil.” 

 

Kaoru finally cracks a smile at that. “You really should pay attention to the scripture. It says we’re both inherently evil, everyone but the gods. If—if you’d only told me, you know, yes, I did the worst possible thing, but here’s what I’m doing to keep us all safe, then I’d feel better, but you keep saying there’s nothing to worry about, and _that’s_ what’s worse!”

 

“Helping him isn’t the worst possible thing!” Rei huffs in frustration, frowning at him. “I _immediately_ offered to let you bind me. I told you my mate would be informed, and can help keep me in check—Kaoru, I _know_ it wasn’t good. Why do you think I waited so long to try it?” 

 

“I don’t know that you did! I only know that I woke up feeling that—that _nasty_ magic.” Kaoru shudders, remembering the feel of it, like sticky oil cloying its way through his nose, out through his eyes, clinging to him even as it tries to melt his soul. “Nothing feels as bad as that. I can’t even imagine how awful it would feel to cast, and to _believe_ in its casting.”

 

“No. You can’t.” 

 

Rei’s voice is quiet, and he shifts, turning in Kaoru’s arms to offer up his back. “If you aren’t interested in trusting me, fine.” 

 

“Don’t be like that. Don’t put this on _me_ , you _know_ you’re not doing anything right here! I didn’t immediately go for my sword, that’s _obviously_ me trusting you more than any other paladin ever would!”

 

A soft sniffle follows, then a little muffled sob. “I-if you really t-trusted me—you’d know—I’d only e-ever do this to _h..help_ someone, you stupid—mean— _priest_ —“

 

Kaoru sighs, and yanks Rei back against him, nuzzling into his hair. “You’ve really been putting me through my paces the last few days, you bastard demon,” he murmurs, kissing the curve of one ear. “First you drag me out of my safe little house, then you ditch me with a _Wavebred_ , now you dump this on me? I’m kind of…overwhelmed.”

 

“You _fucked_ the Wavebred, h-how angry could you have been about that?” Rei demands wetly, slapping half-heartedly at Kaoru’s arms and otherwise making no attempt to get away. “I’m _trying_ to s-save lots of little children and make this country _safe_ , damn it.” 

 

“You’re deflecting,” Kaoru grumbles, holding Rei more tightly whenever he struggles. “Why would I be mad at you for saving the little children, you ass? I was _worried_ about you, you tell me you’re going into danger and need muscle, then ditch me before getting to the worst of it, of course I’m worried. And, um, we’re not talking about me and Kanata.”

 

“I could smell him. Eichi.” Rei’s voice is still wet, but he stills, save for the occasional, unhappy shiver. “If I had told everyone, they would’ve panicked. If I had told you…you would’ve wanted the king dead, no questions asked. I didn’t even know it was through Leo until I ran into him at an auction, entirely unplanned, I just thought Eichi was _here_ again somehow…and I…” He exhales, breath trembling. “I had to fix it, before I fixed the rest of this. I had everything planned out, but not this.” 

 

Kaoru is quiet for a moment, and nuzzles down into Rei’s hair, breathing deeply for a moment. “You know what sucks?” he asks quietly. “You don’t like him very much. And you definitely have a plan for him. You’d never do this to some random person who was bonded to an archdemon.”

 

“No.” Rei’s head shakes slowly, and a ragged, tired laugh escapes his lips. “That’s not…that’s not true. It’s not that I dislike him, or that I have a plan for him—I mean, certainly, I need him to be on my side, but I need that of anyone in power, I…” He shrugs, huddling back against Kaoru’s chest. “I owe him,” he quietly says. “Leo doesn’t know that, but _I_ do. Years ago, I snapped his consort’s bond to another wizard because its existence would’ve led Eichi straight to our stronghold—to where Shu was. It nearly killed him.” 

 

“These bonds are nothing but trouble,” Kaoru complains. “I’ve been reading up on them in Grandfather’s old tomes, which, by the way, are _awfully_ boring. There are like, two examples of them doing something good in the world, like, ever. All the others are just…bad. I mean, they’re really biased books, because they think that wizards are an aberration, but you know.”

 

“Stop reading that crap, just ask me questions about wizards,” Rei mumbles, twisting in Kaoru’s arms to finally face him, and stuff his face down into his chest. “But you’re right. They’re nothing but trouble, bonds. At least I don’t have Shu forced to listen in on all of this right now, though…” 

 

“Listen in, _ugh_ , like that’s something that could be helpful or fun?” Kaoru complains, petting Rei aggressively now. “There are some ways the books said I might be able to break them, actually. Apparently they’re dangerous, but have some success in history. Want me to try?”

 

“No!” Rei’s fingers clutch at the front of Kaoru’s shirt, and he shivers with the thought. “No. I…no. The telepathy…is good, most of the time, I’m just glad it’s not an open pathway right now.”

 

“So you _do_ like it. Hard to tell, sometimes. You act like you don’t even like him.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Rei bemoans, shoving his face down into Kaoru’s chest and staying there. “You’re right—I’m an idiot, I did something really stupid, but it wasn’t with anything _evil_ in mind. All it ended up doing was draining me and now I have a headache and _everything_ …is so loud.” 

 

“Rei…” Kaoru winces, and looks away. “You can’t feed from me right now. I can still feel it on you, I don’t think I could get hard if you sucked me for a year. Do some pretty, fancy magic for a while and get back to me.”

 

“I didn’t ask you,” is Rei’s low, sullen retort. “I’m not that inconsiderate. And _you_ smell like Kanata.” 

 

“Oh, you’re really gonna hassle me about that? You wanted us to get along, right?”

 

“I’ll hassle you about whatever I want. You made _such_ a big deal about him, and the moment I leave…” 

 

Kaoru scoffs. “Like you didn’t plan that? Or at least hope for it? I know your style.”

 

“I wanted to be there, at least.” Rei heaves a sigh, and slowly worms himself away, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbing a hand over his face as he walks to the window. He yanks it open, letting the night’s cool, desert air in, and subsequently setting off every single ward in the room, making them all flash to life in sequence around the walls. “After it does that a few times, you should feel better,” he gloomily says, leaning halfway out the window. “I was in the process of cleansing everything, believe it or not. I just…got distracted.” 

 

“Oh, yeah?” Kaoru asks, amused, rolling onto his side, propping up his head on his hand, elbow braced against the bed. “What was his name? Or their names, I should ask, because if you were that hungry…”

 

“Two Enhanced from the Academy. I didn’t get to feed, I was setting them up in their inevitable romantic rendezvous.” Rei throws a hand up as he settles onto the windowsill. “They’ve been working hard for me down here. It was the least I could do.” 

 

Kaoru’s mouth drops open, and then he starts to laugh, shoulders shaking silently. “You…is this some kind of, what, some kind of penance? You felt the black stain spreading on your soul, so you made two children fall in love? That’s…gods. That’s why I love you, you’re so cute.”

 

“Well, one’s a bit older, but I suppose they’re both children compared to me…” Rei sighs, shrugging helplessly. “You know I don’t really believe in that ‘black stain on my soul’ mess, Kaoru. Some people are evil. Some people aren’t. Also, I didn’t _make_ them fall in love, they already were.” 

 

“Come back to bed. And then we can talk about how silly you are for teasing me about having sex with Kanata when I know full well who he smelled like when we got started.”

 

Rei’s lips purse, and he slowly, reluctantly pries himself away from the window. “Are you going to keep telling me that you’ll never, ever be turned on by me ever again?” 

 

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “I told you, just do some good magic for a while, seek out beauty, cuddle with me, hug a few puppies, and I’ll be back before you know it. It’s an instinctive reaction, it’s nothing I can control.”

 

Rei hisses out a breath through his teeth, and fastens himself to the window again. “I’m going to want to chew on you right now,” he mutters. “I’m too hungry. _Especially_ because you smell like Kanata, and I can see his bites.” 

 

“You can chew,” Kaoru says with a sigh, tugging at the laces on the front of his shirt, easing it down over one shoulder. “But we shouldn’t fuck. It’ll feel wrong to me, you won’t be able to feed on it, I bet.”

 

“…You’re not _wrong_ about that.” Rei’s eyes flick over to that flash of skin, glittering red slits in the dim light. “It might still make you hard. I mean, I suppose we’re in a brothel…” 

 

“So call for a boy,” Kaoru offers. “Some pretty little thing, far too young, with plump lips, doesn’t that sound nice? He can take care of you when you get excited, and you can drink from me as much as you like.”

 

“Boring—except for the drinking from you part.” Slowly, Rei climbs to his feet, meandering back to the bed. “Just slap me if I get too riled up.” 

 

“I’m good at that,” Kaoru says cheerfully, knowing that an exposed shoulder to Rei is as good as a shank of raw beef to a mountain cat. “Come here, drink before you start to die. But be nice, Kanata’s got more sharp teeth than you do.”

 

“They’re serrated,” Rei supplies, dropping down next to Kaoru. Gingerly, he reaches out, tracing one of the still-prominent bites marking Kaoru’s skin with one long finger. “Mean fish teeth. If this area’s sore, I can nibble on your thigh.” 

 

Kaoru thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Might need to sit on a horse tomorrow, and I know it makes you sick when I heal. Inside of my arm, if you don’t want my neck?”

 

Rei heaves a sigh. “I _want_ your neck, but I don’t want to hurt you,” he grumbles, examining the other side to see if it’s any less chewed-upon, which does not seem to be the case. “You should’ve made friends with Sena.” 

 

“I can take it, don’t worry,” Kaoru grouses, leaning his head to one side. “If it hurts too bad, I’ll just go outside and heal it up, but it’s fine, chow down.”

 

“I’ll be gentle.” Rei presses a kiss to that soft skin, selecting a spot that’s as minimally bitten as possible before his tongue drags over it, priming it. Then he bites, careful and deliberate, his arms reflexively wrapping around Kaoru to pull him closer when the first swallow of that bright, clean blood washes over his tongue. 

 

After the odd, melting sensation of being bitten by Kanata, the familiar red-hot scintillating pleasure of Rei’s bite feels like sinking into a hot bath. Kaoru shudders, hands coming up to thread through Rei’s hair. “I forgive you, all right? So take what you need, I’ll trust you. Like I always have.”

 

The usage of magic—any magic, that’s the idea—makes the runes on the walls spark and glitter, glowing faintly in the room’s low light. Rei shivers in turn, drinking deeply, each swallow returning some of the warmth to his limbs, taking away the tremors away when he aches down to his toes. 

 

When he lets go, it’s with a last long, needy suck, leaving a hickey of his own above the tell-tale twin fang marks. “I’m sorry,” Rei whispers, tongue dragging over the mark again as his arms tighten around Kaoru’s waist. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you…or anyone. Ah, gods, you taste _so_ good…”

 

Kaoru turns to him, then flops down on the bed, the ceiling shifting in swirly patterns. “Whoops…too much, I’m too tired. Cuddle me, I’m fainty.”

 

“You should let me get you some dates or some of that sweet tea you like,” Rei murmurs, dragging Kaoru up onto his chest as he settles back onto the pile of pillows, stroking a hand through Kaoru’s hair. Feeding through blood isn’t ideal, but it certainly takes the edge off. “You know no matter what happens…I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

 

“Dumb thing to promise,” Kaoru sighs, curling up on Rei’s chest. “I can take care of myself, let’s just…try to save some cute little kids together. Any progress on that?”

 

“Mm. Quite a bit.” Rei’s eyes lid, his fingers threading through Kaoru’s hair, slowly petting him. “My sources tell me we’ve recovered the noble girl that was kidnapped…and we have eyes on the heads of the organization. Within the next two days—that’s when I want to close in and kill them.” He hesitates, then sighs. “Or that was the plan, until this mess with the king happened. Now I’m not sure if I can collect enough power, unless I can manage to snag a quick meeting with my mate.” 

 

“You’re in a _brothel_ ,” Kaoru points out, eyes fluttering closed, feeling all sorts of sleepy now that the elation is wearing off. “And you have all the money you’d ever need, why not just line them up and have one after the other, or all at once if that suits better? You’ve done it before.”

 

“…Because I’m getting old,” Rei huffs, running his nails against Kaoru’s scalp. “And…I’m pickier, these days. With higher standards. I need people that actually have some kind of magical output, or it feels like I’m eating cheap candy.” 

 

Kaoru huffs. “So I must be, what, a dry biscuit at best? I’ve never been very magically inclined, even among my people.”

 

“No, you’re delicious. Holy energy…it converts into something sort of spicy.” 

 

“Oooh, I’m spicy? I kind of like that, was I spicy before?”

 

“With a hint of citrus.” Rei exhales a long breath, shutting his eyes. “Did you ever make it to the palace down here? I can’t remember.” 

 

Kaoru thinks for a moment, arching happily against Rei’s body. “What does it look like? I honestly can’t remember, if I did it was a long time ago.”

 

“Mm…big white walls. Huge, open windows, rooms that lead out to tiled gardens…incense everywhere, with half of it being opium…” Rei grins, dragging his fingertips down Kaoru’s back. “Do you want to go? I wouldn’t mind touching base with my men before starting this final push, and we can see the sights while we’re at it.” 

 

Kaoru shrugs. “Sounds like fun, I’m always in for seeing palaces. They got hot princesses? I’m really into those, as you well know. Do they wear the skimpy little veils? With the bells on?”

 

“The royal family is full of terrible women and one very good son, so don’t waste your time chasing princesses,” Rei warns, reaching down to give Kaoru’s ass a gentle pinch. “You’re thinking of whores. They wear skimpy little veils and noisy jewelry, if they’re fancy enough.” 

 

“Ahhh, I always get those confused. Treat your whores like princesses and your pockets will always jingle, that’s what my uncle used to say.”

 

“Is that what he used to say…not ‘purge all demons from this place, so mote it be?’ Or whatever it is holy knights chat about. Anyway,” Rei briskly transitions. “I want to go supervise the hand-off of the children they snatched up at the auction, and also, make sure one of my wizards gets taken back to the Academy safely. Well…at least one of them.” 

 

“Right, right, that all sounds good,” Kaoru says plaintively, touching Rei’s hand with gentle fingertips. “But we get to visit _some_ whores, right? Don’t forget, I’m a horrible, fallen, perverted excuse of a holy knight.”

 

“Kaoru, I own three brothels. What kind of whores do you want?” 

 

“Uh….I don’t care? Seriously, it’s more the _idea_ of them than the actual….wait, when did you own three brothels?”

 

“…Since I’ve been funneling kids out of here for years in my spare time and given them a safe place to work in the meantime.” 

 

Kaoru beams, and turns to kiss Rei on the cheek. “See, we’re a perfect pair. I’m the raunchy holy knight, you’re the pure-hearted demon king. Kind of made for each other.”

 

Rei groans, collapsing back and dragging Kaoru down for another, firm kiss. “I want to eat you,” he bluntly says. “All of you. But I’m resisting out of respect and love for you. Actually, I have a great idea. If you want to end up in a pile of _very_ high class whores…when we go to the palace, if you can distract the royalty by letting them know that you have money, you’ll end up having some fun. That’ll give me time to do my rounds and set up what I need.” 

 

Kaoru beams, but the smile quickly slips off his face. “These aren’t the kind of people that are going to try and marry me off to their eldest daughter, are they? Because I’d really rather be eaten by you on a regular basis. It’s funny if they’re all a-twitter, but I’m a married man.”

 

“They’ll try, and I’ll rescue you after I’m done sneaking about.” 

 

“I knew it! I knew you were going to sucker me into a marriage plot, I can _smell_ them!”

 

“I’m not! I swear I’m not! They’re going to let you fuck every whore you want in that place and then try to offer you their daughters, and by the time they get to that point, I’ll swoop back in and kidnap you off into the night. I _promise_.” 

 

“And Shu?” Kaoru asks quietly, that old anxiety back in his belly. “Is he coming into the night with you as well?”

 

“Nope. I’m going to slurp on him, and send him back to the Academy, where it’s safe.” 

 

“And does he know what you’ll be doing after that?”

 

“I’m going to brief him. He has his own concerns that aren’t just me, you know.” 

 

Kaoru huffs. “Be nice, it’s been a century since I was the Other Man, you know. But before you, I used to get caught in closets or under beds all the time. Gods, I was so dumb back then. Kinda thought it was funny, you know? Now I just…can’t stop thinking about who’s going to get hurt.”

 

“I’m being nice. Ahh…all right, all right, enough of this.” Rei rolls Kaoru onto his back, and braces above him with his hands to either side of his head. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book. I’ll tell you everything you want to know so that you stop feeling like you’re the Other Man.” 

 

Kaoru sighs, blinking up at Rei, arms slowly twining around his neck. “Me knowing things isn’t the point, Rei. It’s _him_ knowing. Because if you ever have to choose between us…well, you made that choice once already. I don’t know how many times I can take that.”

 

“…I’m going to tell him.” Rei’s eyes lid, and he leans down, pressing a slow kiss to Kaoru’s mouth. “You know, he’s already given me an ultimatum,” he very seriously says, “about another man.” 

 

Kaoru blinks. “What? About who? What ultimatum?”

 

“Remember the Sandlands whore turned wizard I told you he kept as a pet?” Rei’s eyebrows raise. “He told me, without mincing words, that they come as a set. No exceptions. They refuse to be separated, and when they _are_ apart for more than a day, they’re an absolute misery.” 

 

Kaoru slowly trails his nails down Rei’s back, then up again, only to drop them down to the bed when a little tendril of nasty black magic lashes out, trying to ensnare his wrist. “So you’re saying there’s precedent?”

 

Rei reaches out, physically slapping the magic down. It dissipates, crumbling into flower petals. “Yes. I am. If you keep making me happy, then I’m going to insist upon keeping you.” 

 

“Oh, so now I’ve got a task.” Kaoru touches one of the flower petals, a smile ghosting onto his face. “The more flowers you make, the faster I’ll tackle you down and show you just how happy I can make you.”

 

“Don’t tell me that. I’ll use what magic I’ve got left to turn this place into the garden of your dreams.” 

 

“The garden of my dreams has sexy flowers. Can you make sexy flowers?”

 

“…Orchids are sexy, I think?” 

 

“Not like that, Rei, I knew you were too close to this…”

 

“Eh? But you said you wanted sexy flowers. Roses, then? No, those will just make me think of Wataru, that’s sort of scarring…” 

 

“I kinda meant, you know, like flowers that look like girls, maybe have big tits…”

 

Rei blinks down at him. “Why? You can have my tits whenever you want.” 

 

Kaoru shrugs, not embarrassed in the slightest. “More things with tits is definitely better than less.”

 

“I’m divorcing you.” 

 

“Hey! You _asked_ what the sexiest flowers would be! The answer was obvious!”

 

“No, if you want flowers that represent sex—coriander, actually, is a very blunt way of expressing lust, and so are orange roses, but as I mentioned, those are out…” Rei smiles, batting his eyelashes down at him. “Flowers that look like girls are a little much for me, I’m afraid, so you’re going to have to be satisfied with flower language, like a proper gentleman.” 

 

Kaoru steals a kiss, then another, then another, until the pulsing blackness threatens his lips, and he subsides, feeling cranky. “Whatever flowers you make, make them fast, I can’t take much more of being unable to touch you.”

 

Rei groans, forcing himself to sit back before he can’t _stop_ himself from pressing Kaoru down and kissing him hard. “I’m—going to turn this room into a rainforest,” he threatens, raking a hand back through his hair. “Just to purge that shit, and then fuck you into the bed.”

 

Kaoru’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “I’m not stopping you. Let it grow, baby, I wanna rest my head on your tits tonight, if I can.”

 

“…You’re going to need to do the work,” Rei quietly warns him. “If I use my magic for that…I’ll be on empty again.” 

 

“Do you think you can purge it all, if you do?” Kaoru asks, sitting up with his back against the wall. “If you drain it all, and there’s still a bit of the nastiness left…I won’t be able to do anything.”

 

Rei chews on his lower lip, contemplating. “I’m not sure. Ah, maybe I should just wait until I can feed on Shu…then it’ll be gone for sure, and we can really play all we want…” 

 

A knock comes at the door, and Rei bolts back as the door cracks open, all of the wards and runes sparkling underneath the movement. “Excellency?” Mao softly calls out, eyebrows raising at the field of magic that doesn’t quite let him enter. “You’ve been in here for awhile, I wanted to—“ 

 

“Mao, come here.” 

 

Mao heaves a sigh, passing through the wards effortlessly once granted permission. “I don’t think you’ve met Kaoru,” Rei says, leaning away to take Mao’s grumpily offered wrist. “Kaoru, this is Mao, a level three Enhanced…who is going to solve all of my problems for the moment.” 

 

Rei bites, and Mao winces, though he holds fast in spite of the sting of sharp teeth. “Hi,” he greets with a little laugh, fluttering his other hand. “Nice to…ah…meet you…I’ve heard about you, I think?” 

 

“You must be one of the lovebirds,” Kaoru says cheerfully, leaning back against the wall. “That’s quite a mark of respect, for Rei to feed on someone from the wrist instead of insisting on somewhere interesting. Don’t pretend, kid, you’ve never heard of me.”

 

Mao’s smile twitches faintly. “I’ve been bitten plenty other places, sir,” he politely says, “before recently. I’ve also heard of everyone that His Excellency is involved with if it’s necessary to know. Ah—that does— _sting_ , Excellency—“ 

 

The wards spark unexpectedly, and Rei releases Mao’s wrist with a wet, noisy exhale, panting shallowly as Mao jerks his arm back, grimacing. Reflex makes him cast a ward of his own, drawing the runes in the air to reflexively catch up and collect the obvious off-cast of unwanted, clinging magic. “Do you need Keito, too?” he asks, entirely unfazed as he binds up the magic into a neat little blob in his hands. “He’s up because he’s had too much Sandlands tea.” 

 

“Let me think on that,” Rei murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I raised this one,” he adds to Kaoru. “Isn’t he a good boy?” 

 

Kaoru has long ago resigned himself to letting go of any stupid rules about not having sex with anyone that they’d personally raised. After so long with the Oogami clan, it had been a necessity to forget about that. “He seems real good. All right, boy, you seem like you like to be a quick study. Prove it, if you want, and I’ll be impressed. Who am I, who’s my family, what’s my connection to Rei? I’ll reward you for correct answers.”

 

“Lord Kaoru of High Harbor—or more correctly, of the Hakaze Clan of Paladins of the White Holy Order,” Mao recites without even glancing to Kaoru again, far more interested in compressing the captured magic down to nothing, no matter how it struggles against his hold. “Father, mother, older brother, older sister, no children. Officially, you’re Lady Reina’s husband.” 

 

Kaoru’s eyes light up, and he leans in, looking between Mao and Rei. “Oh, he’s very good, isn’t he? Not as respectful as your old cleverboys, but the world is a bit different now, isn’t it? How is he at procuring wine, eh?”

 

“He’s the best I’ve got,” Rei softly says, watching the magic finally convert to nothing underneath Mao’s weaving, dropping down to the floorboards as a writhing sprout instead of a dark cloud. “Though wine is a bit difficult in the Sandlands.”

 

“…I’ll see what I can do,” Mao sighs, rubbing at his wrist as he drifts back towards the door. “Should I send Keito, Excellency?” 

 

“Kaoru?” Rei glances back to him, eyebrows raised. “Am I still unpleasant?” 

 

“Kiss me, and I’ll see,” Kaoru offers, leaping off the bed to grab Rei around the waist, tugging him back to meet his mouth. He delves his tongue into Rei’s mouth, dragging hands up and down Rei’s back, letting Rei’s magic wash over him. It’s a sweet, cloying taste, and he leans into it, eager, until one last tendril lashes out at him, and he jumps back, cursing as white light flares from him. He tries to block it, knowing how it’s poison to Rei, and curses, hands pressed over his eyes. “Almost,” he grunts. “You—it didn’t get you, did it? It’s just a reaction, you know I can’t control it, it’s really strong right now—“

 

“Bring Keito,” Rei grumpily says, obviously not pleased about having to disturb him. He plucks at a crispy strand of hair, burnt at the end courtesy of Kaoru’s delightful defense mechanism. “Or if he’d rather, I can come to him. Either way, bring wine.” 

 

Mao sighs, offers a bow of his head, and steps back towards the door. “Wouldn’t it be easier, Excellency, if you arranged a proper meet-up between you and—“

 

“I’d like a head start, thank you.” 

 

Another sigh, and Mao escapes for the time being, leaving Rei to offer Kaoru up a beaming smile. “Isn’t he cute? He’s my brother’s mate, that’s why he’s so tolerant, I think.” 

 

“Is _every_ damned wizard bonded to a mate these days?” Kaoru grouses. “Maybe my family is right, and wizards are just weird mutations. What’s the natural _point_ of it, if you’re sterile?”

 

“The real answer?”

 

Rei leans back, shaking out his hair. “At least, the probably real answer—it makes us stronger. That’s not always the case, but…in many wizards, you gain abilities. It’s only natural that it happens, even if it’s uncommon. And no, to answer your question,” he dryly adds, “not every single wizard is bonded. Just a number of strong ones. I just happen to know the strong ones.” 

 

Kaoru snorts. “Like you need any more abilities. So, it exists to make the strong stronger? I still think it sounds—“

 

A perfunctory knock at the door announces Keito, who bows curtly to Kaoru before walking directly to Rei, looking rather ragged around the edges, but in good spirits. “Neck or thigh?” he asks without preamble. “I thought you were well-fed, or I’d have offered earlier.”

 

“Can I drink from between your toes?” Rei asks with a smile, batting his eyelashes. “I’m afraid I misled you earlier. Leo took far more than he gave. That’s a joke about the toes, by the way, your neck is fine. Oh, Kaoru, this is Keito. Keito, Kaoru.” 

 

“Mao told me,” Keito assures Rei, and tugs the borrowed nightclothes to the side, exposing the long, pale column of his neck. “It’s a pleasure, Lord Hakaze.”

 

“Please, Lord Hakaze is all of my terrible male relatives, call me Disappointment.”

 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s just being modest,” Rei says, tugging Keito closer with a pale hand closed about his wrist. “Call him Dishonorable Disappointment.” With that, he lurches off the bed to fasten his mouth to Keito’s neck, the motion far less businesslike than with Mao, and far more intimate when his teeth sink in, taking a long, deep drink. 

 

Kaoru’s eyes sharpen, watching with pleasure as Keito gasps, hands clinging at Rei, his back arching, biting his own lip as Rei drinks deeply. “You two were lovers for a long time, weren’t you?” he asks fondly, twirling a strand of his own hair. 

 

“Long enough,” Keito grinds out, eyelids fluttering. “You sure you wouldn’t prefer to be in my place?”

 

“I’ll take my turn when you’re done. Enjoy it for now.”

 

Gradually, _eventually_ , Rei pulls back, releasing Keito’s neck with a pleased, sated sigh. His tongue drags over the twin pinpricks his fangs left behind, not allowing a draw of blood to escape elsewhere. “It’s not like I wouldn’t mind warming up with you, Keito,” he hums, flopping back down to the edge of the bed. “But you look a little…mm, worn out?” 

 

“There was exactly _one_ bottle of wine that I could find within this block’s radius, Excellency,” Mao interrupts, propping open the door with his foot and setting the wine down inside. “Of all the things for the Sandlands to have laws about the sale of…ah, sir, um, Keito, you look a little pale.” 

 

“Remind me to demand a real vacation after this is all over,” Keito says, voice a little thready as he fumbles for Mao’s shoulder to steady himself. “I think I’ve more than earned it. Rei, you look quite sated, we’ll take our leave.”

 

Kaoru plucks the wine from the table as the two men filter out of the room, looking critically at the label. “They seem like good kids. I mean, one of them’s a bit old to be a kid, but definitely the sort of bright, loyal types that you’ve always favored.”

 

The door clicks shut, and Rei collapses backward onto the bed, shutting his eyes as his magic processes and digests. “They’re even older than they look, both of them…Enhanced humans usually are. Nnn, they taste so good I could die…Mao’s specially cultivated, and Keito’s just…” He shivers, running his tongue over his lower lip, seeking out any drops of blood he might have missed. “Maybe I took too much. Oh well.” 

 

“Come to me now.” Kaoru extends a hand, beckoning slowly. “You’re clean now, I can feel it. Let me charge you up, this is a dangerous place, and even properly cultivated Enhanced can’t feed you like I can.”

 

Rei takes Kaoru’s hand, immediately crawling closer to him. His form shifts as he does, seamlessly shifting to the familiar form of a woman that Kaoru knows well, and this time, to match the illusion, the clothes change with him to something far more…see-through. “I won’t be completely clean until you take care of me. Be sweet to me, Kaoru.” 

 

“You changed your clothes instead of just banishing them?” Kaoru asks, amused as he presses Rei down into the bed, fastening his mouth to one sheer-clad nipple, sucking cloth and flesh into his mouth all at once, feeling it rise against the see-through fabric. “Maybe I should make love to you over them, then.”

 

“You said you wanted a fancy whore,” Rei breathes as he flops back, biting at his lower lip as Kaoru’s mouth immediately makes him shudder. His toes curl and his hands slide down Kaoru’s back, fingers curling against his spine. “So I’m…ahh…providing. You don’t even have to pay for me.” 

 

That drags a laugh out of Kaoru, and he drags his hands down Rei’s sides, feeling the slender curve of his waist, squeezing his hips, guiding him where he wants that beautiful body. “I pay for loving you every day, wife. What’s a little more? Spread your legs, let me have a taste of you under those pretty skirts.”

 

Rei obliges, exhaling a pleased little noise as he slithers flatter onto his back, letting his thighs fall apart as he hikes up the gauzy fabric. “Is it paying if I’m a delight?” he archly asks, drawing a leg back to run his foot against Kaoru’s hip. “Maybe…I should show up at the palace like this. I’d fit right in as a whore, I think.” 

 

“Pierce your nipples so I can see them through your dress,” Kaoru suggests, pressing kisses to the inside of one thigh. “I’ll buy you jewels for them, big fancy ones that make everyone squirm with the desire to touch.” He lurches forward, running his tongue up that sweet slit, already wet and ready for him.

 

“A-ahhh, fuck…” Rei doesn’t bother stifling his groan as his head falls back, back arching with the first drag of Kaoru’s tongue. He whimpers, sliding a hand down through Kaoru’s hair, twisting gold strands up between his fingers. “You…really have the best tongue, what the heeelll…” Out of the corner of his eye, the runes on the walls flare and spark anew with the magic that already starts to run through them, and Rei trembles, the muscles in his thighs twitching from overeagerness.

 

Kaoru quests out with his senses. He can’t use magic, not really, but there’s a certain innate spiritual quality to a paladin that makes him more sensitive, and able to follow spells that are already constructed, to sense things that other humans, and even some other wizards, could not. There’s still a darkness lurking around Rei, something separate even from his innate demonic self, that makes Kaoru shiver deep down. Rei’s magic may have been cleansed, and the darkness can’t reach Kaoru now, but it’s there nonetheless, silently threatening, able to strike at any time. 

 

_I’ll save him. No matter what I have to do, no matter what it does to me, I’ll save him._

 

That resolve crystallizes in Kaoru’s mind, and he feels a sparkling white determination, coursing through him as he laves at Rei with his tongue, fingertips leaving dark spots as he presses Rei’s thighs down to the bed, suckling and licking as he moans at the taste.

 

Every single lick makes Rei gasp and whine, his hips straining up when Kaoru’s tongue leaves him shivering, twitching, clinging to Kaoru’s hair and then giving up on that, too, to simply fist his hands into the bedsheets as his legs start to shake. Rei feels himself dripping against Kaoru’s tongue, slicker by the minute, and another swipe of that tongue, perfect and thorough, makes him come with a squeak, not muffling the sound in time behind his hand as Rei ruts down against Kaoru’s mouth. 

 

Kaoru pulls back, face slick and shiny, grinning as he lays his head on one creamy thigh. “I love you, Lady Hakaze.”

 

“Uh huh,” Rei dazedly offers up, flopping a hand down to pet Kaoru’s hair. “Love you, too. Now fuck me into next week, so I can blow up the entire world for you if I need to.” 

 

“My lady’s wish is ever my command.”


	48. Chapter 48

It may have been several years (over a dozen) since Kaoru has had to introduce himself to a courtly function, but he’s also probably done it more often than any other living human. The confidence is the most important thing, and fortunately, Kaoru has that down. He ties his hair at the nape of his neck, ignoring the fact that he’s wearing nothing but tattered leggings and a dubiously clean shirt, belted around the waist in a hint to modesty. It doesn’t matter what he wears. That becomes obvious when he strides up to the palace, with Rei trailing a few steps behind him as his supposed “bodyguard,” looking like a hulking, brutish version of his usual body. Servants scatter when they see him, running to inform masters that someone Important has arrived. 

 

No, not servants, Kaoru realizes with a low, tight anger. Slaves. There hadn’t been nearly so many when he’d been to the Sandlands before, and only in certain professions. These days, they seem to be everywhere, scurrying around and not meeting anyone’s eyes. Yes, indeed, they would have to do something about that. 

 

“Honored lord,” a higher-ranked servant says, bowing low as he hurries out of the Palace’s front steps. “Please do this unworthy one the honor of announcing you to the great court of the Sandlands.”

 

_Still got it. Even looking like this, they can tell what I am—or at least, how loud my purse jingles when I walk._ Kaoru gives a nod, then gestures to Rei to introduce him.

 

The entire place reeks of magic. 

 

That’s not entirely true—only to someone like Rei does it reek, but it’s distracting enough that Rei finds himself on edge the moment he steps onto palace grounds. The particular kind of magic is what bothers him the most, and makes it apparent why he needs to be here: it’s Mika, leaking slowly, the seals holding him no longer doing the job they need to do. 

 

The sooner this is wrapped up, the better. 

 

“The honorable Lord Hakaze of High Harbor,” Rei announces, thumb absently running over the sword at his hip. A useless accessory for him, but necessary for appearances, nonetheless. “Recently widowed, and vacationing in the south.” 

 

_Oh, so you really do need a distraction. You owe me, bastard._ Kaoru’s smile doesn’t alter, though it would be so, so easy to let it turn sour as he’s announced, and all of the women start adjusting their clothing. He bows to the court, striding down the halls, looking purposeful as he looks about. “I’ll require quarters, nothing fancy, just comfortable enough to house myself and my manservant here.” Doubtless, he’ll be given one of the nicest rooms in the palace. Everyone knows the Hakaze name, in the highest circles.

 

“Of course, honored lord,” the servant hastily says, bowing again as he tries to keep pace with Kaoru’s longer strides. “I’ll have a room prepared, so please wait—“

 

“My lord will do no such thing,” Rei interrupts sharply in sand tongue, making it apparent _now_ that no one should attempt to lead them astray by talking behind their backs. “He’ll have your finest room. Now.” _Don’t be annoyed with me. You can fuck all afternoon while I clean up this mess._

 

The servant only hesitates for a moment before bowing deeply and nodding again. “Then—this way, honored lord, a room awaits you.” 

 

Rei’s eyes are sharp as they follow, scanning the halls, and it’s with an abrupt jolt that they fall upon an all-too familiar shock of pink hair. He nearly trips, expression frozen for a moment before he shakes himself off, the only thing in his ears now the sound of his own thudding heart. 

 

The clang of the bell, surely, must be audible to everyone around for a hundred miles. Shu is certain of it. Shu can hear it so loudly his head feels like it’s vibrating, snapping the dampeners on his bond. No one else seems to blink, except the hulking, muscular shell around what Shu feels intrinsically is his bonded, so close, close enough to touch, Shu’s mind and soul resonating so strongly the only thing he can compare it to is the first time he’d seen Rei, the first time that bond had snapped into place. 

 

Kaoru gives Rei a little frown when he stumbles, following his gaze to see a tall, beautiful man, one that Kaoru has seen in dozens of scryings. Rei’s stunned face is bad enough, but Shu’s is worse, closed-off and remote, but with tears coursing down his face. _Weird_. _Bonds are weird._ “Come on,” he says under his breath, tugging at Rei’s elbow. “Don’t stare at the servants, it’s rude. Find a bride on your own time.”

 

_My lord. You’re here at last._

 

Shu’s voice, echoing around in his head, makes one thing readily apparent: _if I don’t get my hands on you right now, I’ll die._

 

Rei forces his expression back to something smoothed over, bored, no matter how much effort it takes. He exhales, looking away, attention trained on the servant in front of them instead. “Apologies, Milord.” 

 

But the hunger won’t shut _up_ now. Rei’s heart won’t stop pounding, his pulse loud in his ears as he takes up a post outside of the room Kaoru is led to, pre-filled with wine and sweets, with a veritable huddle of women peeking in through the door after him. Rei spares a glance over his shoulder back into the room, catching Kaoru’s eye. “Does this meet your specifications, Milord?” 

 

Kaoru sighs dramatically, as if he’s in fine silks and jewels rather than dusty, worn traveling clothes. “It’ll do for now, I suppose. I must say, it’s highly inconvenient to have a manservant with such particular taste for male flesh, in such a paradise of…curves.”

 

At his beckon, two girls bounce close, veils fluttering over the bottom of their faces as they giggle, pressing said curves quite close to him. “The Toymaker caught his eye?” one of them asks, sounding wickedly delighted. “Bring a fat purse, good sir, he speaks the Lady’s Tongue.”

 

In spite of himself, Rei snorts out a laugh. Whoops. Maybe he should’ve done something about that before sending Shu off to the Sandlands. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters, offering Kaoru a bow of his head before stepping away, and pulling the door shut behind him. 

 

Without Kaoru in his line of vision, focusing on Shu becomes even more all-encompassing. Striding down the hall, Rei follows the _scent_ of Shu, bright and heady, the thrum of his magic that feels like it’s wrapped around his neck like a noose, dragging him in, pulling hard. 

 

_Go where it’s safe. I’ll find you._

 

For all of his complaining, it’s so, _so_ comforting to be able to speak to someone in his own mind. 

 

_One step ahead of you, my love._

 

By the time Rei finds him, Shu’s in his own quarters, ripping off the draping robes he’s been in since coming to this stupid, evil, too-hot country, grabbing for the sandalwood oil to have it ready, spilling it in his haste. _Come soon, come soon, I burn_.

 

Drawn to the room like a moth to a flame, Rei’s form shifts effortlessly back to his natural one the moment before reaching the door, and he slips inside, drawing the door closed behind him with a resounding _thud_. 

 

He says nothing. Two strides, and he’s in front of Shu, grabbing him with long-fingered hands about his waist, dragging him and crushing their lips together. Kissing that mouth is like drinking from the coldest, purest fountain in the middle of this damned desert, and Rei shudders, only releasing him to drag a shaky thumb against that perfect cheek. “Hello, love,” he breathes. 

 

The tears don’t stop, even now that Rei is _close_ , close enough to touch, to burn away the aching emptiness of the last months. Shu smiles through it, hot salty water splashing onto his teeth, dripping off of his chin as he leans in, touching their foreheads together. “I’ve missed you,” he says softly, their mental connection flooding Rei with everything he’s seen, felt, heard, witnessed, and suffered since they’d last touched.

 

It’s so much that Rei winces, though he forces himself not to withdraw, his fingers biting harder into Shu’s flesh to compensate. “I missed you,” he quietly says in turn, crushing Shu to his chest, turning his head to the side to bury his face into Shu’s neck, and breath in the scent of him. It’s a mistake, because with that scent disappears the last of his self-control, and Rei compulsively bites down, the taste of soft skin and vibrant blood on his tongue making him groan.

 

Being bitten makes every bit of Shu’s body lurch up in response, melting into Rei, shoving his neck against Rei’s mouth, hungry to be eaten. “Take all of me,” he breathes, eyes glazed over in sheer bliss, skin tight and hot. “It’s all yours, it’s _all_ yours, I’m yours, just—“

 

Without releasing Shu’s neck, Rei shoves him forward, flat onto his back on the bed, crawling after him as he drinks deeply with long, noisy swallows. It’s too much, probably, butnothing would feel like enough after that long—after not being able to feel him, after not being able to touch him—

 

Rei breaks away from Shu’s throat with a ragged gasp, his tongue dragging over the wound, sucking up the droplets of blood that threaten to escape. “Turn over,” he rasps, mouthing another kiss to Shu’s mouth, sucking on his tongue, his hands already urging Shu to obey him. Underneath his touch, it feels like Shu is burning, but it’s hard to tell if that’s Shu, or himself. 

 

Shu turns as fast as an eel, shoving himself back against Rei, hands pushing at the bed, uncaring of traction, of anything except Rei behind him. He grabs at the oil, spilling it carelessly over his fingers, reaching back to finger himself swiftly, slicking himself as fast as possible when Rei feels so hot, hard, and perfect above him. “I’m burning,” he whispers, looking up over his shoulder at Rei. “Nothing is enough, nothing is as—my love, you’re so _low_ , hurry and feed, these lands are dangerous.”

 

“Shh. I won’t be for long.” 

 

Rei snatches the bottle away before it can spill further, tipping over the rest of it on his cock as he pulls it out, panting just from touch himself. The arch of Shu’s back is perfect, his skin so soft that running his slick fingers over the perfect curve of his hips takes Rei’s breath away, and he buries his face into Shu’s hair, inhaling again. “No one—no one takes the place of you,” he groans, and he eases his cock to that slick hole, sucking in a sharp breath when he starts to sink inside.

 

Even with the oil, it’s too tight. Rei curses underneath his breath when his cock slips up to rub against the cleft of Shu’s ass, and he bites down again, teeth fastening possessively to Shu’s shoulder, holding instead of drinking this time when he eases his cock back to that tight hole, far more careful this time when he works the head inside. _Breathe, love—you want me in you, don’t you?_

 

_That’s_ all _I want_.

 

Shu arches back, eyes fluttering closed as Rei sinks inside. His hands fumble, reaching for Rei’s, closing around them and squeezing, just to feel that connection of skin on skin. The sudden enormity of _Rei_ washes over him, wiping everything else out, leaving him a drooling, blissed-out mess, feeling as if he’s been inhaling nothing but opium for the last year. All he breathes is Rei, all he thinks is Rei, all he feels is Rei surrounding him, taking him, ravishing him.

 

_I’m yours. Have me until I fall apart._

 

_Gladly._

 

Rei entangles their fingers together, squeezing Shu’s hand tightly as he sinks inside with a low, rumbling grunt of effort. He stills for a moment, breathing in deep, feeling, savoring, soaking in the way his magic thrums, the way _Shu’s_ thrums, thick in the air. Around his cock, Shu feels perfect—tight and slick and _his_ , and Rei bends over him, releasing his shoulder to pant noisily in the air, an arm sliding around Shu’s waist to pull him back into each thrust. 

 

Magic flares around them, wild and uncontrolled. Even after all this time—or perhaps, _because_ it’s been so long—Shu can’t begin to get a handle on it, doesn’t even want to. No one but them will be able to see it, the way his own body responds with glowing health to Rei’s lashing power, the way Rei grows less pale, less wan, more vibrant and _alive_. Shu squeezes Rei’s fingers, opening a channel even wider between them, letting all of his thoughts and feelings flow, unrestricted between them, in the most pure joining he’s ever been a part of. _My soul is yours, love_.

 

It’s almost too much. 

 

If Kaoru tastes like spice, Shu is fresh, perfectly ripe fruit, dripping when he sinks his teeth in, bringing that flavor to blossom fresh over his tongue. Rei trembles as he bends forward over Shu, clinging to him, his magic doing the same, barely pulling out with each thrust when it just feels perfect to be _inside_. 

 

“Shu…” His mind is so clouded, too overwhelmed with the flow of that magic that _words_ are necessary. Rei bites again, and the next taste of Shu’s blood _is_ too much. Rei spills, and he grabs and clings to Shu, that orgasm so _secondary_ to being able to feel Shu’s soft skin underneath his hands, to the way it feels when his magic pulses and shakes and wraps around them. 

 

Shu gulps slowly for air, eyes rolling back in his head as he shudders under Rei, letting Rei have him in every way he can. He feels as if his body is breaking apart, melting down into the bed, dissolving under Rei’s magic, and glories in it. “You don’t…have to stop,” he slurs, cheek pressed against the pillow. “I’m yours, as many times as you want, I love you, I _love_ you…”

 

Rei slowly, painstakingly rolls to the side, not pulling out and firmly keeping an arm about Shu to keep him close. “I’m going to stay in you,” he murmurs once he releases Shu’s neck again, licking the blood from his fangs. The swirling patterns of magic fluttering about cloud his vision, and Rei sighs, absently sliding a hand up to thumb over one of Shu’s nipples. “And probably…never pull out. Gods, I’ve missed you…” 

 

Shu feels his eyes leaking tears again, though he doesn’t feel sad in the slightest. He nestles happily back, eyes closed, drinking in the feel of Rei behind him. “If you ever pull out, I’ll blow you up,” he murmurs. “I think that’s fair.”

 

“Fuck, I wish you’d kill me,” Rei manages with a wet, ragged laugh, squeezing Shu tightly as he sucks on one of the bite marks he left behind, drawing blood back up to the surface for him to nurse slowly. “Being without you makes me want to die. You’re so… _perfect_.” 

 

“I…don’t think I can ever be without you again,” Shu says softly, tracing patterns on Rei’s palm, which he captures and refuses to relinquish. “Do we have to mute the bond again? Or have you found out everything you need to know about this horrible country? I kind of want to blow it up.”

 

“Shh. There are plenty of lovely things here.” Rei presses a slow, warm kiss behind Shu’s ear. “Like you, right now. Mmn…no, I don’t think we need to do that again. Not for a long time.” He plants another kiss, then another, and absently shifts, adjusting the angle of his hips as his cock twitches inside. “You,” he says, lips turning up in amusement, “smell like Mika.” 

 

Shu smiles. “I don’t even know what you smell like. Something…white? Does that make sense?”

 

“Ahh, yes. I reconnected with an old friend of mine, who just _happens_ to be a holy knight.” Rei pauses, and lets his tongue snake around the shell of Shu’s ear. “And my husband, from way back when. How is Mika?” 

 

“In his element. Oh, that reminds me.” Shu reaches back, and pinches Rei’s hip, hard. “ _That’s_ for never telling me I talk like a whore in Sandland.”

 

Rei grins, plucking at a nipple firmly. “If I had told you, you would’ve _stopped_. C’mon, tell me you’re at my service.” 

 

“Not now that I know how much you’ll enjoy it!”

 

“You’re terrible. The cruelest. Be sweet,” Rei purrs, rolling his hips forward as he stuffs his face into Shu’s hair and inhales. “I _was_ warned you’d cost me a pretty penny, do I need to pay up first?” 

 

“W-who told you that?” Shu demands, though it comes out breathy and weak. “Nnh…I…” He swallows, and switches to Sandtongue, because he can’t deny Rei anything. “For such a fine lord as yourself, I’ll take it on faith…as I’m, ah, at your service, sir.”

 

Rei groans, then curses, and pulls Shu firmly back against him as his hips roll forward and up into him. “Good boy,” he rumbles, splaying his hands over those lean hips to squeeze and knead as he fucks forward slowly. “I remember…the first time you practiced Sandtongue around me…I heard how you spoke, and it made me as hard as a rock.” 

 

“I thought you just— _hells_ , Rei—I thought you just had, ahh, a thing for language…”

 

“Maybe that too,” Rei breathlessly laughs, holding still to just feel the way Shu shivers and squeezes down around him. “But hearing my perfect, beautiful, _prissy_ consort speaking like a whore…” 

 

“I t-told you to stop calling me prissy,” Shu complains, hands fisted in the sheets, eyelids heavy. “You feel…so good inside me, nnh, take more than you need, I want to be part of you…what else do you want me to say, dirty my tongue now…”

 

“Tell me…how it feels.” Rei sighs, eyes lidded as he rolls languidly onto his back, dragging Shu with him and coaxing him upright. It’s a _lovely_ angle, being able to watch the tension and arch of Shu’s back, the way all of that lean muscle clenches and twitches, the way his ass looks wrapped around his cock. He pets his hands down Shu’s sides, steadying him. “When my cock is inside of you like this. Say it nice and pretty, I know you’ve learned by now.” 

 

“It…ah…” Despite Rei’s teasing, Shu fumbles for the words, his mind stuck on linguistics when Rei keeps moving him around like _he’s_ the boneless marionette. “I, ah, it feels…like you are having my hard, you are in the throat…nnh, wait, I can do better, nnh, Sir—“

 

“You’re so cute, I’ll probably die,” Rei murmurs, shoving himself up to lick a stripe up between Shu’s shoulderblades, chasing after a trickle of sweat that makes him shudder when the taste washes over his tongue. His hips rock up, his cock achingly hard inside, his movements relentless. “You’re _trying_ to say…’it feels like you’re in my throat’…but I guess it’s hard to talk if I’m like that, huh? Call me ‘sir’ again.” 

 

“How about,” Shu suggests breathlessly, a giddy smile on his face as he grinds back, “I say one of the things I do know…please…Sir…fuck me…I need it…” His body is too hot, too full, and somehow feels like he hasn’t had nearly enough.

 

“W-who taught you _that?_ ” Rei groans, his head thunking against Shu’s back as his cock swells, and he can feel himself drip inside, already dangerously close. “Get off on me,” he hoarsely manages. “I need you to. Gods, you’re perfect.” 

 

“Couldn’t stop,” Shu gasps, wriggling down onto Rei, letting his spasming muscles helping him slam down, filling himself over and over, one hand coming up to his nipple. He manages one squeeze before he’s coming, shivering hard, adding, “M-Mika taught me…some nice…phrases…for you…”

 

Rei flops onto his back again, his hands on Shu’s hips, squeezing and holding him steady even as his own fingers shake. The rumbling, thrumming surge of magic after Shu comes makes him see nothing but odd splashes of color for a moment, and Rei shudders, his toes curling as he thrusts up once before spilling again, long, slow pulses of his cock filling Shu inside. “If it’s…too much…we can pause,” he pants out, blinking away sweat from his eyes. “Gods. How did I go without this for six _years_ …” 

 

“I went insane,” Shu mumbles, reaching back and up to touch Rei’s face gently. “I think I must have been insane, without you.”

 

“I think I’m insane now,” Rei blissfully says, and rolls them again, partially crushing Shu down into the mattress. “Tolerate this, I want to be plastered to you until I send you back home.” 

 

“Tolerate, he says? As if I’m ever letting you go.” Shu’s voice loses a bit of imperious command, only because it’s muffled into the mattress, quite happily.

 

“You’re so _soft,”_ Rei bemoans, wrapping all four limbs around Shu as he nuzzles into his hair. “Even in this terrible desert…soft and warm and good…and you taste like _peaches_ , ripe and juicy…I love you, you know that? My magic is doing some _things_ right now, but I love you.” 

 

“You’re all of my heart and half of my soul,” Shu says softly, quite content to be adored and petted. “Take more, if you need, I’ve not seen you so empty in years. What’s wrong with you, the bond was muted, I’d have thought I’d see you full to the brim with a bit taken from every pretty boy in the country.”

 

“I’ve gotten picky in my old age,” Rei laments, content to cuddle Shu for the time being as his magic swirls about, uninterested in being properly restrained when he’s suddenly so full. It’ll calm down eventually, or it won’t, it’s never changed much of anything either way. “Also, I…ran into an unplanned issue, just prior to seeing you.” 

 

“We’ve had…more than a few of those,” Shu admits, nuzzling back against Rei’s chin. “Several, I suppose. Anything that needs to be dealt with right now?”

 

“No, I dealt with it. The king, specifically, and his…lingering bond.” 

 

“Oh. Good. That was quite messy, wasn’t it? Also, I think we’re going to need to kill a princess, I don’t like her.”

 

“Don’t scold me when you see him later,” Rei warns, giving Shu another slow, thorough squeeze. “Which princess? I’ll kill all of them. I want to bury the whole family except for Adonis.” 

 

“The horrible one that kicked my Mika. You’ll know her, she’s the one I’ll be pointing at and shrieking.”

 

“She _kicked him?_ I’ll kill her myself. And you’ll not be pointing and shrieking at anyone. You and Mika are going home.” 

 

Shu’s lip wobbles. “R-really? Ah…I feel like I should protest and tell you I want to stay here and finish it until the end, but honestly, I do not. I want to go home, I miss our tower, and your little dog figurines, and the children, and the garden, and I really hate sand and everyone calling me a concubine.”

 

“It was never the plan to have you ‘stay here until the end’, love,” Rei patiently says, pressing a kiss to the back of Shu’s neck. “You’ve done what you needed to do, you and Mika both. I’m sending you home with Kuro and those children you rescued. I have all the help I need, and honestly, all I’m going to be doing at this point is blowing things up, which I frankly don’t want you involved in.” 

 

“Excellent,” Shu says with a sigh, eyes shutting as he relaxes in Rei’s arms. “I want to go back to making complex, delicate, and underappreciated things with my magic, please, I don’t think I’m meant for a life of espionage.”

 

“You’re far too talented for a life of espionage. You’re wasted here. Ahh, I’m pulling out, or my magic is going to _make_ me start again,” Rei murmurs, shifting enough to separate them with a wincing little sigh. “I could feel Mika’s magic leaking the moment I stepped into this place…is he all right?” 

 

“No.” Shu’s voice is firm, but his mind’s voice is raw, emotional, and unstable. “There was…an incident, recently.”

 

“Tell me.” Rei’s voice is soft and calm, and he presses a kiss to Shu’s hair. “I’ll fix it.” 

 

“The second-oldest princess. Mika refused a piece of meat from the prince, and she…she hurt him. That’s why my seal is so, ah, inelegant.”

 

“Everything you do is elegant.” Rei pets a hand slowly down Shu’s side, tracing his fingers over soft skin. “I already didn’t have plans to let her live. I’ve lost my sense of humor when it comes to the state of things in this country…it _will_ be dealt with. Is there anything else I should know?” 

 

“Have you been informed of the children? Did Hajime find you on the road? I confess, I don’t know which messages you received, and which missed you along the way.”

 

“I haven’t been able to contact Hajime,” Rei admits. “Again, this incident with Leo distracted me. I haven’t been down in the Sandlands for long, and prior to that, I was in the Hinterlands. Natsume sends his regards, by the way.” 

 

“A good child,” Shu says fondly, and snuggles down harder, as if Rei’s arms can protect him from all the ugliness of this horrible country. “We found one of the children. Mika did. He’s got her here, following him around like a duckling. Hajime went to take you word, but we were waiting for a safe route to be set up.”

 

“I heard that you found one of them. Hajime hasn’t touched base with me yet, but I’m unsurprised he couldn’t find me; I was laying very low. Fortunately, I was planning on having you all leave together. Kuro is still here, yes? I’ll have him escort you, and clear the route with Chiaki and Kanata’s assistance.” 

 

“One girl,” Shu reminds him. “Not all of them. And, ah, I doubt Kuro will be able to take me, he’s moonlighting. For the Coinmaster.” He hesitates, then shoves the rest of what had happened through their bond, too embarrassed about his behavior to say it out loud.

 

Rei pauses, and presses another kiss to the side of Shu’s neck. giving him a slow squeeze around his waist. “Then I’ll get someone else to take you home,” he quietly says. “If the other noble children haven’t been found by now…you know it’s highly likely that they won’t be.” 

 

“You don’t know that. You can’t. We only found the girl this week, you _can’t_. And…and one of the ringleaders…it’s Aida, his mother.” Shu doesn’t bother to say whose mother.

 

“I know. Mao’s had a few intimate encounters with her. All the more reason to get you _both_ out of here, as soon as possible,” Rei murmurs. “Just—don’t be surprised if recovering themisn’t possible. I’m going to try, but I’m realistic.” 

 

Shu’s heart constricts, and he forces himself to think of little Selmy, safe and alive, because of what they’d done. “It’s Lord Baristan’s daughter,” he says softly. “He’s a good man. Must be out of his mind with worry for her. But Rei…there are lots of little girls who get sold down here every day. They have parents, too.”

 

“I know, Shu, I know.” Rei sits back, raking his hair back out of his face. “I want to save all of them,” he quietly says. “But sometimes, that isn’t possible. My goal at this point is to destroy the head of this disgusting beast and then cut off the limbs. I’ll save as many as I can in the process, but—sometimes…” Rei hesitates, then shakes his head. “Sometimes, these children are better off dead. Not everyone is like Mika.” 

 

“That’s not your call, Rei,” Shu whispers. “You don’t get to decide that they’ll never heal.”

 

“I don’t want to do that. But Shu—if it comes to making that judgement call, and being able to _end this_ , I will make it.” 

 

Shu draws in on himself, magic seething unhappily, burbling over like a boiling pot with a poorly-fitting lid. “And if I can save them, even from your judgement, I will.”

 

“Shu—Shu, don’t.” Rei winces, the unhappy surge of Shu’s magic affecting him more severely after so much time apart. “Listen to what I’m saying,” he firmly says, taking Shu by the arm and urging him to turn around and face him. “I want to save all of them. I’m _trying_ to. But realistically, I might not be able to if I’m going to take out everyone that _needs_ to die. Please don’t be upset with me right now, I need you to trust me.” 

 

“This is wrong,” Shu says softly, not meeting Rei’s eyes. “Saving everyone that needs to be saved, isn’t that better than killing everyone that needs to die? The suffering down here, Rei—you should never have let me see it if you didn’t want me to care.”

 

“Lest you forget, I didn’t want you to come.” 

 

“Well, I’m here.” Shu shrugs. “So we both have to deal with that. The things I’ve seen…I’m going to need to hole up in my tower and create beautiful magic for a year. You and Mika are allowed in. And Izumi, he’s beautiful.”

 

“He should be here soon. I’ll make him take you home.” Rei cups Shu’s face in his hands, pulling him up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m going to try to save everyone,” he softly says, “but you _have_ to trust my judgement if I can’t. I’m the one that has to make terrible choices so you don’t have to.” 

 

“You take that on yourself,” Shu whispers, eyes creased in pain. “No one else thinks that it’s up to you to make every terrible choice.”

 

“If not me, who? Our king that’s barely a man yet?” Rei gently squeezes Shu’s cheeks. “I’m also much more often assured that I’m in the right, and that everyone else is wrong. It’s a task better left to me.” 

 

Shu snorts, and gives Rei a shove. “If he doesn’t want the responsibility, he should let someone else be king,” he says firmly. “This country needs a firm hand. If he doesn’t want to be that hand…”

 

“I don’t want it, either,” Rei says with a laugh, swaying with Shu’s shove. “So I’m taking care of what I think falls into my scope. Maybe he’ll be more focused after all of this is solved.” 

 

Something in Rei’s voice, or perhaps his mental tone, makes Shu pause, looking skeptically up at Rei. “You do something to him?” he asks, already knowing the answer, but not the details.

 

“He _is_ the reason I was on such a magical low,” Rei offers up with a shrug, pushing his hair back behind his ears. “Nothing he didn’t ask for.”

 

“Did it hurt you?” Shu asks, concerned, hand coming up to touch Rei’s face. “Whatever you did…it’s something you hated, isn’t it?”

 

Rei grimaces as his eyes flick aside, not meeting Shu’s gaze. “I didn’t have another choice,” he settles upon. “I had to find some way to block off the remains of his resonant bond.”

 

That makes Shu grab Rei closer, nuzzling into Rei’s neck. “The remains of a bond…I never want to think about something horrible like that. What did you have to do?”

 

“Nothing of the sort will ever happen to our bond,” Rei assures him, stroking a hand over Shu’s hair. “Leo…he was in such obvious pain. I met him at the auction house, and I could immediately feel it. When I wrapped him up into my magic, all of that stopped for him—and he asked me to make that permanent, if I could.” Rei sighs, propping his chin atop Shu’s head. “I pulled him into my thrall.”

 

Shu freezes, face gone utterly white. His eyes widen, and he looks up to Rei’s face, horror dawning there. “You…I…you really think that was…best?” he asks, trying to be reasonable when his mind is so horrified.

 

“The other option,” Rei quietly says, “was letting what remains of Eichi to crawl up from the depths of the Shadowlands courtesy of the attachment he had to Leo’s bond. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen.”

 

“He—crawl—“ Shu starts to shake, hands gone as pale as his face. “No, no, no, he’s dead, I saw him die, you know he’s dead, he can’t still be—“

 

“He was an Archdemon—they never…” Rei exhales a quick breath and grabs Shu’s hands, squeezing them firmly. “He is _not_ coming back,” he lowly says. “Shu, listen to me. By having Leo in my thrall, there’s no way he can come back, not so long as I live. You trust me, don’t you?” 

 

Shu forces himself to take a breath, then another—no, he’s lost the rhythm, his breath stutters, spots flutter in front of his vision—no, no, he _must_ master this— “I t-trust you,” he says, but the words are half-panicked. “He could come back? Really? There’s a chance, even—even a minuscule one?”

 

“No.” Rei’s voice is firm, his hands tight around Shu’s. “There’s no chance. Not a single one now. I’ve taken care of that.” 

 

“They never die,” Shu says, finishing Rei’s thought from earlier. “Rei, he’s clever. And he doesn’t care if he hurts himself on the way out. He’s like nothing you’ve ever faced before. Just because no one ever has…”

 

“I’ve stopped the only way he could have come back out. The _only way_ , Shu. Listen to me—he cannot come back so long as Leo is in my thrall.” 

 

Rei pulls Shu close, crushing him to his chest, pressing his lips to his forehead. “I’ve never thralled someone in all of the centuries I’ve been alive,” he murmurs. “But I did it, because I wanted to _make sure_ that creature could never come back. Not now, not ever. I did it to keep you safe, and you _will_ stay safe. I will never, _ever_ let him hurt you again.” 

 

Shu’s last wall crumbles, and he presses his face into that broad, welcoming chest. “Thank you,” he whispers, hands still shaking, though his breathing starts to calm down. The spectre of Eichi has haunted him for years, and it’s unlikely to stop that any time soon. “I just want him to be dead. Really dead.”

 

“Like this, he _is_ dead.” Rei kisses his hair again, and his magic sweeps forward as a glittery, shadowy cloud, wrapping about Shu to envelop him completely. “It’s no secret that such things are incredibly illegal,” he quietly says, “but in this case, it was entirely necessary. Let’s just keep it as under wraps as possible. Leo doesn’t know either; he just thinks it was sex magic.”

 

“I don’t care about illegal unless someone finds out,” Shu says bluntly. “Laws keep changing. It used to be illegal for us to touch, remember? I care if it hurts you, my love, my lord.”

 

“This is why you are my one true love,” Rei groans, collapsing backwards and dragging Shu on top of him. “It’s a little black cloud on my magic. Very ugly and distracting, but not painful. If you Look, you should be able to see it.” 

 

“Then I won’t look. Unless looking will help you somehow.” Shu smiles shyly, looking down at Rei, eyelashes fluttering. “I like the way you look to my eyes. We all have our dark clouds somewhere, that doesn’t mean we should look at them.”

 

“…You are so beautiful,” Rei murmurs, lifting a hand to run his thumb over Shu’s cheek. “The only dark clouds I see on you are when you aren’t with me.” 

 

Shu smiles, leaning down to kiss Rei sweetly, tasting his lips, as if the two of them are the only things in the world that matter. “Don’t look too closely, then. I think my soul looks best from a distance.”

 

“Wrong. It looks good at all angles.” Rei leans up to kiss him, then again, and forces himself to stop after a third. “If you keep being this pretty, I’m going to eat you again, and I have things to _do_ ,” he groans. “Where’s Mika? Should I check on him? Or would that spook him too much?” 

 

Shu thinks about that for a moment, turning it over and over in his mind. “I’m not sure whether seeing you will help,” he admits, “but I have to see him, no matter what, so you might as well come with me. Are we breaking cover, or must I put my seal back on?”

 

“Can you send for him?” Rei asks, reaching up to toy with a strand of Shu’s hair. “The prince, too…ah, perhaps I should go to him. It’s been so long. He’s a good boy, isn’t he, the prince?” 

 

“Very good. He made Mika not want to completely die, so he has my gratitude, for what that’s worth to him. Doubtless, not as much as it should be.” Shu reaches for a bellpull, and finds it out of his reach. “I have to admit,” he says with a huff, “I’m considering using magic to pull that. Ridiculously wasteful, look what this has done to me.”

 

“When you stretch like that, I can see how loooong you are,” Rei bemoans, reaching after him to snag his arms back around Shu’s waist, and bury his face into his lower back. “Like a dancer. Like a work of art. You are _wasted_ on the Academy, on the world of wizards, on this world entirely…”

 

“So make me a world without war,” Shu says, meeting Rei’s eyes. “Make me the world of flowers you want to build. And I’ll dance in it until the sun burns out, and we’re dust.”

 

“I’m working on it.” Rei’s mouth twists into a wry smile, and he nips at the back of Shu’s shoulder. “Before we summon him, you didn’t tell me—how _was_ Mika?” 

 

“I did tell you. Bad. Last time I saw him, we were both…well, he _was_ crying, I’m obviously, I wasn’t crying, though it was _quite_ traumatic.”

 

“No, darling. I mean in bed.”

 

“No, it wasn’t traumatic in—oh.” Shu colors abruptly pink, unsure of whether he should be amused or embarrassed or nervous, but settling on embarrassed. “He was…a delight. You aren’t mad? I know, I know, double standard and I shouldn’t even be asking, but it _is_ the first time.”

 

“I would have been annoyed if you _didn’t_ take this chance to climb in bed with him,” Rei says with an amused smile. “I’ve been convinced that if it weren’t for me, you would’ve had him some time ago. You are a set, after all.” 

 

“I…I love him,” Shu says softly, looking away from Rei’s eyes. “You know that. You are lord of my heart and soul, but…” He purses his lips. “He’s special.”

 

“I know.” Rei reaches out, catching Shu’s chin gently to turn his face back towards him. “I understand. And I don’t fault you for it in the slightest. If anything, I’m grateful you have someone like that. For your sake, and, well, to even out the score a bit, heh.” 

 

Shu arches an eyebrow. “The white knight?”

 

“Ooh. That transparent, huh?” 

 

“You did open an unrestricted channel into my mind, love.”

 

“Ah. So I did. It’s been awhile, be gentle with me.” 

 

Shu smiles, tracing a finger down Rei’s chest. “Tell me about him. Is he going to be…a part of my life?”

 

“Not unless you want him to be.” Rei’s eyes lid, watching the path of Shu’s finger. “Before you…well. I was with him for the greater part of a century.” 

 

“But you’ve never mentioned him.” Shu traces his fingertip around a nipple, then taps it. “Too painful? Did you part sadly?”

 

“If me sobbing on the floor of a brothel after I realized my wayward pirate days were over is sad…”

 

“Embarrassing, I think the word for that is embarrassing.”

 

“I was _very_ distraught that I wasn’t allowed to fuck anything and everything anymore.” 

 

Shu’s little smile fades. “Oh. After you fled the Academy.” Unspoken, he adds, _And what you were upset about wasn’t our parting, it was that you couldn’t have this other man that I never knew existed._

 

“That’s not true,” Rei says out loud, frowning. “I was upset about a number of things—leaving you included. But yes, I was upset about not being able to be with him anymore—we were lovers for a century. We had others, of course, but…he’s the lord of High Harbor. How do you think I came across such a lovely stronghold?” 

 

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it. Perhaps I should have.” Shu looks away, grabbing the sheet and tugging it up over himself. “You were lovers for a century, but you never mentioned him to me?”

 

“Just like you never mentioned exactly how deep your love for Mika goes.” Rei sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Shu. I was trying to distance myself from him so I could focus properly on you. I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” 

 

Shu takes in a deep breath, then nods. “Very well. What do we do now? Are we supposed to…are we supposed to keep our bond muted from now on? If we don’t, you won’t be able to…”

 

“I’ll temporarily mute it as necessary. I think that’s necessary for _your_ continued happiness, anyway; you were suffering before, being the sole object of my affections. I like being able to dote on you, not to _need_ to fuck you into next week.” Rei runs a fingertip down Shu’s back. “Kaoru understands. He’s jealous, but he understands.” 

 

“So, tell me about him.” Shu snuggles closer, tugging the sheet over both of them. “If you’re going to be seeing him often, and I _do_ like the idea of temporary muting as needed for my health as well as the nation’s, I want to know about who’s important to you.”

 

Rei relaxes, slinging an arm over Shu’s waist as he settles down next to him. “He’s a total womanizer, a dishonor on his family, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” His smile is wry. “He’s a very good person. Very laid back and gentle…but gods, I do love the way his ass looks when he’s slinging a sword around.” 

 

“He sounds like an utter scoundrel,” Shu says, amused. “Just your type. A lot like that puppy you used to bring around, sweet but rough around the edges. The brutish type, eh?”

 

“Mmm…not exactly. Kaoru’s much more delicate than he likes to admit, in his sensibilities. He _is_ nobility. But I will admit,” Rei says with a laugh, “I do like scoundrels. Perhaps he’s the perfect mix—a pretty, delicate scoundrel.” 

 

Shu’s eyelashes bat as he says, amused, “And you don’t at all mind that you’re adding another deep pocket to the Academy’s side, mm? Or are they the destitute sort of nobility?”

 

“Try the kind of nobility that has a number of ‘go away houses’, as he calls them, for his languishing within when he’s depressed that I’m not around. And often holds parties. With lots of wine, girls, and food decorated with edible gold leaf. You know, to my credit, I was uninterested in the Academy when I met him.” 

 

Shu blinks, less amused and more bemused. “Ah…is this a particular kind of nobility I’m supposed to know about? I don’t think my family had much connection with anyone so, ah, eccentric…”

 

“Doubtful. He’s a paladin, Shu. The White Holy Order. They aren’t exactly highly publicized these days.” 

 

“Very holy, very pure, with his go away houses and his edible gold girls.”

 

“I…think you’re combining a few things that don’t go together at all? But that being said, I _did_ say he brought dishonor onto his family often. He’s fucking me, after all.” 

 

“For a century, I did not think that your taste ran so…elderly.”

 

“He’s a paladin. They age slowly, far more slowly than even wizards, or Enhanced.” Rei’s eyebrows raise. “You _do_ know how old I am, right?” 

 

“Yes, but you said he was a paladin, I’ve never—I thought they were a myth, Rei. My father said they’d died off years ago.”

 

“Your father’s information is a bit outdated,” Rei says, amused. “I have his sword with me, do you want to touch it?”

 

Shu brightens up. “I _absolutely_ want to touch it, I heard they were works of unparalleled beauty. Does he have the beads, and the wheel?”

 

“Ahh…I’ve never seen them in action, but I do believe he has them?” Rei slides out of bed, retrieving the borrowed sword that for him is absolutely nothing but decoration. “Here. Don’t cut yourself on it. For a human, it must feel very pleasant; it makes me uneasy.” 

 

Shu lets out a pleased little hum, running his fingers over the blade of the sword, tracing the inscriptions and feeling them flare up—mostly in response to his touch, at least once in reaction to his innate magic, a warning. “Ah, so are the rumors true? Do they go after wizards, as well as demons? Well, they’ve got you coming and going, haven’t they? Oh, the workmanship on this is _remarkable_ , does he have the holy robes? I’d strangle a friend to touch the hem of those fabrics.”

 

“Apparently, wizard towers ‘unmake them’, whatever that means,” Rei says, flopping back down, cheek resting in one hand. “So truly, I’m his worst enemy, a demonic wizard from the depths of hell. I’ve never seen him wear a holy robe, but I bet he has them, and I’m sure he’d let you touch them. Off topic, but he has an extremely talented tongue.” 

 

“That _is_ off-topic,” Shu agrees, and leans forward and licks Rei’s cheek. “What do you tell him about me, this lover of a century? Or—oh. Does he hate me? I should ask, I suppose. I probably would, in his situation.”

 

“He’s incredibly jealous,” Rei says, lips twitching into a smile, and he taps Shu’s upturned nose. “And has informed me, after apparently spying on us on several occasions, that you are absolutely not his type, but he’d still have a threesome. But I tell him how beautiful and intelligent you are, and how talented of a wizard you are, and how you make me the cutest dog figurines in the world.”

 

“Rei—Rei, don’t tell him about the dog figurines, they don’t make sense if you don’t see them in person,” Shu says with a sigh, shaking his head. “Spying? Spying on us doing what? I’m sure he doesn’t care about me being a good wizard, since he apparently wants to exterminate us.”

 

“He doesn’t want to exterminate wizards, he doesn’t want to do anything but lounge around and drink wine and eat…—anyway, he knows how much I like dogs, the figurines made sense to him. Apparently he spied on us just being us, and saw you crying over a bird painting at some point.” 

 

“You know, we really should be worried that someone is able to spy on us so easily. Do you think he means that creation Wataru sent? That wasn’t a painting, that was a vertical cake.”

 

“I don’t think we need to worry about him spying on us, considering he does have several leashes on me so it’s quite easy for him, but no one else. Was it really a cake? Why were you crying over it? I don’t remember.”

 

“You never remember the important things,” Shu says dismissively. “Yes, it was really a cake, for White Dove Day, remember? You were in the Capital, dealing with one of those festivals you were supposed to be present at, and the bond was aching at me, I just _happened_ to be next to the cake. Also, the craftsmanship was beautiful, so if I _were_ crying about it, that wouldn’t be so strange.”

 

“That explains it. You’re very adorable, do you know that?” Rei smiles fondly, running his fingers through Shu’s hair. “Anyway, I think you’d like him well enough. He’s very lovely. Yellow hair, grey eyes, tanned from always being outside, nice and tall and fit. He has Kanata’s stamp of approval as well.” 

 

“Well, that’s not easy to get,” Shu says, thinking back to some of their previous conversations. “But I’m glad he has it, Kanata’s a good judge of people. I’m better, of course,” he says, with absolutely no evidence to back that up.

 

“Of course you are. I value your judgement above all others.”

 

“Excellent, I knew you had good taste. That was the correct answer, you may touch my hair.”

 

Rei’s fingers obliging run through the feathery strands, petting him slowly. “I love him,” he finally says. “He’s a good man. I trust him a great deal. You can trust him, too.” 

 

Shu smiles, arching into the petting. “I’m horribly jealous, you know,” he says, trying to sound serious. “But really, Rei, if you love him, I’m sure I will…at least be able to tolerate him. I’m sorry, your taste sometimes…”

 

Rei’s hand pauses, his eyebrows raising slowly. “Go on. What about my taste?” 

 

“It’s bad.”

 

“Further explanation is needed.” 

 

“Every time you tell me about an old flame, and I meet him? He’s strange.”

 

“You’re just saying that because of Keito, aren’t you.” 

 

“Ah…not _just_ him, if it were just about him, I’d have said your taste is abysmal and there’s no hope for you.”

 

“You’re a brat sometimes, you know. It’s very charming, but I think that sums up my taste nicely—brats.” 

 

“How dare you.” Shu plants a kiss on his lips, then stands, stretching again with a small yawn. “We should go collect Mika, before I die of worry. He’s perfect, you know.”

 

“I don’t want to put on the brute suit again,” Rei groans, throwing an arm over his face as he sprawls out into Shu’s bed. “I like being beautiful, damn it.”

 

“You said it was almost over, right?” Shu asks, very seriously. “That the hiding, the sneaking around, they’re over? I can’t stand it anymore, I really can’t.”

 

“Yes. I’m sending you two home tonight.” Rei forces himself to sit up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “Bring him here, and the prince, too, if he’s available.” 

 

“Help me seal.” Shu smiles wryly. “In this state, I don’t know that I have the control to do it alone. If I walk out like this, anyone will be able to see what I am, even some Untalented.”

 

“Please walk around naked and beautiful at the Academy when we get home,” Rei sighs, reaching out to take Shu’s hands and draw him over. He reaches up, touching his fingers to Shu’s temple, the heavy weight of Rei’s cloaking falling down around him like a shadowy blanket, dampening Shu’s magic down to a barely bubbling simmer. “There you go, darling.” 

 

“I’ll be back.” Shu can’t help adding a bit of his own elegance to the spell, sealing himself up tight as he finally reclothes himself, leaving the room in search of Mika.

 

Mika, for his part, has made a point to thoroughly avoid the hustle and bustle about the palace today. 

 

_Something is happening._ That much is obvious, but the sudden arrival of a strange new guest and the disappearance of Shu for the past hour is troubling, and Mika paces nervously, hiding within Adonis’s chambers and biting his nails until the paint chips off. It isn’t until the quiet, familiar footfalls of Shu come outside of the chamber door that Mika stops, wide eyes unseeing as he anxiously stares at the door (as if he could see anything that comes through it). 

 

The man that knocks on the door, however, is not Shu, but a tall, handsome, yellow-haired holy knight, currently on extreme vacation. Kaoru grins, arching an eyebrow. “Hey there, little birdie. You the one who’s got the place all a-twitter? I’ve heard of you, but I didn’t think you’d be so pretty. Are you sure you’re not a girl? That’s right, that’s right, it doesn’t matter down here, does it? Very convenient.”

 

Mika blinks a few times, reflex making him direct his gaze upward to create the illusion of actually being polite and being _able_ to pay attention when someone speaks. “I…u-um…” He hesitates, attempting to feel out the situation, to feel out this man’s magic—or lack thereof, perhaps? But it’s useless and futile with normal human senses only available to him, courtesy of the seal (albeit a leaky one). “It’s…a pleasure to meet you, honored sir?” he settles upon, deciding for polite, heavily accented common tongue to at least create the illusion of someone not affiliated with a bunch of wizards out to change the scope of the land. 

 

Kaoru raises an eyebrow, vaguely sketching his hand on the wall, the movement looking natural to anyone else as he purges the room of any listening spells. It isn’t a spell on its own, but a natural counter, an Unraveling. He switches to Sandtongue, sounding instantly like the sort of noble who comes down to summer in the Sandlands every year, leaving with at least two venereal diseases. “This more comfortable for you, sweetling? Just came to see what all the fuss is about. I heard about you from a mutual friend, you see.”

 

Mika frowns, and takes a wary step back. _A mutual friend_ —that could mean anything, which is very, very terrifying. “I can speak the common tongue, but I shouldn’t, not here,” he warily murmurs, the bright blue of his eyes focused on where he hears the man’s voice, but obviously unseeing in spite of how he tries to keep tabs on where this strange person is. “I…don’t think I know you.” 

 

“Which is definitely a shame that I need to remedy,” Kaoru says cheerfully, leaning against the wall. “So, little bird, I bet you’re all on your guard because everyone here cares soooo much about the big political issues of the day, hmm?” He saunters inside, and sits on the edge of a chaise lounge, blue eyes bright. “Tell me about your Master, would you? It’s a personal interest. I’m here with his lord.”

 

Mika hesitates visibly, painted nails curling against his own arms as he wraps them around himself. “My…master,” he slowly repeats, backing up until his legs hit the end of the large, blanket-piled bed, and he sits. _I don’t know, I’m not sure if I can trust you, this is a bad idea._ “Um…forgive me, but…what kind of personal interest?” 

 

“Oh, I’m in love with the Demon King,” Kaoru says breezily, as if it’s the kind of thing he declares every day. “Actually, he’s my wife. You can talk freely, by the way. I Unmade all the listenings. This old paladin still has a few tricks, but don’t let that scare you.”

 

“You’re…a paladin.” Mika chews on his lower lip, messing up the rogue on his lips in the process. He spares a last glance to the door, watching it as if someone will burst through at any moment, then heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes. “I dunno who y’are, but there ain’t no one that’s not in love with Rei,” he wearily says, switching back to common tongue—this time, without attempting to sound like a refined prostitute that learned it from a client here or there. “At least, a little bit. My master’s the best, though, so you ain’t gotta worry about him being with someone bad or somethin’.” 

 

“He’s very fancy, isn’t he?” Kaoru asks, grinning to make it sound playful, rather than accusatory. Any fool could see that this kid has more than a bit of hero worship attached to that weird pink guy. “I’ve known Rei for a real long time, you know. So I kinda want to know a little about the guy that’s so good he can capture the Demon King’s soul. You know, before we finish rescuing all the cute little kiddies and get out of here.”

 

“…It ain’t like he had a choice in it,” Mika warily says. “Bonds jus’ kinda…happen. Master’s fancy, but that’s good. He’s th’ best tailor you’ll ever meet, _and_ th’ best wizard.” 

 

“I don’t have too much use for wizards,” Kaoru admits, “call it an old family superstition, but I _always_ have a use for a good tailor. Suddenly, I’m thrilled to meet him.”

 

“…y’know Rei’s a wizard, right?” 

 

Kaoru beams. “That’s not what I like about him, darling.”

 

“I ain’t your darling. I bet you’re rich. You _smell_ rich.” 

 

“Very rich. Why, you need money? I’ve got little use for the stuff.”

 

“Nope.” Mika stares at the blurry, shapeless blob of him, contemplative. “Whatever you’ve heard about my master, forget it, unless it’s good. He’s as good as possible. He saved me.” 

 

“Of course he did, you’re adorable.” Kaoru draws his legs up, sitting cross-legged on the lounge. “You fit in so well down here. I hear he loves you an awful lot, but are you sure you’ll be happy up there where it’s cold? You look like a warm-weather birdie.”

 

Mika huffs. He shifts. Fidgets. Moodily drums his nails against his arms. “It’s way too cold everywhere else,” he finally says. “But I gotta. Master likes livin’ in a fancy wizard tower, and likes all the stuff in the Capital, and _kara’s_ in the West all the time, so I gotta. I’m not good at bein’ a wizard, but at least I could be useful doin’ this kinda thing.” 

 

“So you’re a wizard that doesn’t like being a wizard,” Kaoru says, amused, “and you live in the north when you prefer the warm weather, and you speak Common when you’re native to Sandtongue, and you live the life of a celibate when you’re obviously made for more…carnal pleasures. Doesn’t anyone appreciate the person you _are_ , little bird?”

 

Mika’s mouth parts before shutting again, and he huffily sits back. “I’m appreciated,” he mumbles, kicking his feet slowly. “You’re a paladin, right? The special holy kind and stuff?” 

 

“Eh, more or less. You need something purified?”

 

“Your kind’s all up in th’ Hinterlands, right?” Mika glances up, chewing on his lower lip again. “They used to roll th’ kinda wizard I am up there, so you’d kill ‘em. Well, I didn’t get shipped up there, so I’m appreciated enough. That’s what I figure.”

 

Kaoru inclines his head, acknowledging the touch. “Just want to make sure…ah, how do I put it? That the kind of man my lover’s bonded to treats people like they’ve got value. Keeping you alive isn’t all you deserve, now, is it?” Kaoru’s grin turns rakish. “Also, you should be warned in advance. I’m a _really_ bad paladin. Dishonored, disowned, and disinherited by everyone that matters for my naughty ways.”

 

“I figured. You’re in bed with Rei.” Mika’s smile is wry, and he glances down, plucking at the hems of the gauzy things he’s wrapped up in. “Master’s th’ kindest person I know. He treats people good even when they don’t deserve it. He stood up for me when no one else would, so…if y’were lookin’ for anythin’ to justify stealin’ Rei away and never comin’ back, y’ain’t gonna get it from me.” 

 

“Well, there goes that cunning plan.” Kaoru smiles ruefully, but something bothers him, the same thing that had led him to this room in the first place. “Look, I was joking before, but are you sure you don’t need anything purified? You…sweetheart, you’ve got a dark energy hanging around you, you know that, right? Kinda smells like…” He trails off, not wanting to scare the boy.

 

“I’m a necromancer,” Mika flatly says. “I’ve always got little ghosties ’n stuff. I’d show you, but you’d die.”

 

Kaoru tries very hard not to look as if he’d just been hit in the back of the head with a board. “Oh. You’re—a necromancer.” _And you’re just…saying it! Out loud!_ “Ah, well, heh, that’s…an unusual gift, eh?” _And I’m not supposed to kill you?? Rei, what have you gotten me into this time…thralls, Deeplings, necromancers…I’m going to spend a thousand years explaining this to Grandfather…_

 

“Mmhm. Told you I was th’ kinda wizard they shipped off to die before.” Mika looks unfazed as he glances down, picking apart one hem even further. “Rei says I got th’ highest death count of anyone else in th’ Academy, so if people are smart, they’ll be nice to me. Mostly, I jus’ hide, though. People are scary. I didn’t even really wanna come home, even if th’ tea’s better here an’ th’ weather’s good.”

 

“The weather is _hot_ ,” Kaoru corrects. “Makes me want to swim. Guess it’s back to High Harbor for me after this.” He stands, and pats Mika on the head. “Nice to meet you, kid. If you ever see me acting like a jerk in public, just play along, it’s probably on Rei’s orders and I’m an incredibly good actor when I want to be.”

 

“If you’re ever mean to my Master, I’ll find you,” Mika bluntly says, “an’ make my ghosties eat you.” 

 

“…Okay, thanks, that’s very scary,” Kaoru says cheerfully, and dispels his Unraveling, banishing it before he waves a cheery goodbye.

 

Not long after he leaves, another knock sounds at the door. Unlike Kaoru, Shu waits to be answered. “Mika? Can you hear me?”

 

Mika sags with relief, flopping backwards onto the bed as all the composure he has left quickly dissolves. “Uh huh,” he weakly says. “Come in. Master, paladins are weird…” 

 

Shu enters, immediately walking to Mika, taking his face in delicate hands, only to feel the sudden, discordant clang of screeching violin strings in his head. _It’s not sex_ , he thinks firmly, annoyed, and the noise doesn’t _quite_ keep him from holding Mika’s face to his chest. “You’re all right, good, I can breathe.”

 

“Nhh, ‘course I’m all right,” Mika mumbles, squishing himself close. “You’re all…tense, though. And sweaty. What’s goin’ on, no one’s tellin’ me anythin’ and a weird guy just came to talk to me…” 

 

“He’s here. My lord.” Shu glows with relief, the bond between him and Rei thrumming with joy. “It’s over. We’re going home.”

 

“…But—“ It’s a relief to know that Rei’s here, but at the same time… “I can’t leave yet, I still got stuff to do. Master, you should go.” 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t be going anywhere without you.” Shu pats Mika on the thigh, more comforting than touching skin to skin when his bond is active. “What more do you have to do that you can’t entrust to Rei?”

 

“There’s still kids to go and find—he ain’t got time for that,” Mika mutters, frowning up at Shu. “If I don’t, no one’s gonna. Even Adonis, he doesn’t like dealin’ with the kids, it makes him too sad…” 

 

“You’re not thinking ahead,” Shu says gently. “Rei is going to end the entire slave trade, those children will be found and saved, he’s not going to leave the Sandlands with no plan in place. What could you do, by yourself?”

 

“I…I dunno, I jus’ wanna stay an’ be able to help…” Mika glances down, fidgeting, nervous. “Does he know…about my mom?” 

 

“He knows.” Shu thinks for a moment, then says, “I think you’d be quite useful, given how good you are with children, and how fluent you are in Sandtongue culture as well as the language. I’ll ask Rei about setting up a halfway house for the kids that they find, and letting you run it, perhaps halfway between here and the Capital?”

 

“Mm, I’d do that. But right _now_ ,” Mika insists, grabbing at Shu’s hands. “Master—he’s gonna do somethin’, isn’t he? Somethin’ big? I wanna be here to help.” 

 

“He’s going to do something big,” Shu confirms, “and I have no idea how your particular sort of magic would interact with it. So can’t we agree it’s best for you to not be here?”

 

“Wouldn’t it be better to have _two_ powerful wizards down here? Just in case?” 

 

Shu gives him an arch look. “You think my lord has underprepared? Or that we’re the only ones here?”

 

“…if his fancy paladin thing is what he’s got here helpin’ him, then yeah, I think he’s a little…understaffed.” 

 

“You were unimpressed,” Shu guesses.

 

“He got real nervous when I told him I was a necromancer. That’s how I know he’s got no balls.” 

 

“Excellent,” Shu says, mostly to himself. “No reason to worry, then. Never mind, never mind. But there are others, my lord has his preparations in place.”

 

Mika falls silent, sitting back onto the foot of the bed. His ribs throb, his head hurts, the idea of a soft, comfortable bed with Arashi squishing him down into it sounds so nice…

 

Tears prick into his eyes, and he sniffles as he glances aside. “I _want_ to go home,” he quietly says. “But…but if I leave now…it f-feels like it’s half-finished, I didn’t even really do anythin’…” 

 

“Mika…” Shu’s eyes crinkle at the sides, a first sign of aging even in a wizard, and he reaches out to fluff Mika’s hair. “You saved those children. That’s hardly nothing. And you learned quite a bit about the trade down here, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without your aid.”

 

“That’s n…not enough.” Mika’s fingers twist up in his lap, his breath hiccuping. “I wanna fix it for real. If we don’t this time, it’s jus’ gonna be impossible next time…ain’t like the king cares, ‘cept when nobles are involved and he’s gettin’ yelled at, so we _gotta_ —“ 

 

“What exactly do you think Rei is going to leave?” Shu asks softly. “He’s not going to come North unless the slave trade is _over_ , I made him promise me.”

 

“Slave trade’s never gonna be _over_ ,” Mika mumbles. “So that’s a bad thing t’promise. It’s gotta be _fixed_.” 

 

“Eh?” Shu blinks, trying to process that. “No, no, certain trades can be outlawed, it’s quite easy, that’s how they got rid of the hunting of Wavebred for their scales. How on earth would you fix something so abhorrent?”

 

“Master—“ Mika huffs, pushing his hair back out of his face, only for the curly mass of it to fall back forward. “I know y’can’t possibly get it, ‘cause you’ve never…really lived in a place like this, an’ all you’ve seen is th’ bad parts,” he softly says. “But—slavery don’t have to be a bad thing. When I was a kid…I would’ve _killed_ to be sold off to a place like this. That was th’ dream. A lot of people are real happy bein’ slaves. It’s work, they’re fed, they’re clothed…gettin’ rid of that is gonna ruin a lot of lives. That’s why it’s…it’s gotta be _regulated_. It ain’t like huntin’ Wavebred, it can _be_ good.”

 

“But…” Shu wrings his hands, distress coming through in every movement. “You’re right, I don’t understand. I—how could you want to have no control over your own life? If we abolished slavery, they’d _pay_ for those services, and servants are able to leave and seek other employment other places, if they want, isn’t that better?”

 

“Where they gonna get the money from? People got th’ money to pay for one slave, not the money to pay wages. If they did pay, it ain’t gonna be enough to feed that person or their family. That’s why more people sell themselves into slavery down here than anythin’; the ‘wages’ ain’t payin’ anythin’.” Mika shrugs, kicking his feet slowly. “If you’re born a whore, ‘specially…there’s nothin’ else y’can do with your life but that. It’s better to sell yourself off, send that money t’the family you’ve got, or your kids, and then they’re taken care of, and _you’re_ a slave, so you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ but your job.”

 

“But it doesn’t have to be like that!” Shu’s frustration leaks through, and he folds his arms, pursing his lips. “You’re thinking too small. If people down here can’t afford it, surely anyone wanting work will head away from here. They need people in the West, how many times have you heard that brute of yours talking about how they need to settle the wilderness? Wouldn’t most people rather do that than let people…you know.”

 

“How many times have you seen someone from the Sandlands up north of here?” Mika softly asks. “They don’t wanna leave. _I_ didn’t.”

 

“What? I thought…they just weren’t _allowed_ to leave. Besides, when you were a child, I doubt anyone came to speak to you and told you that you could live a full, productive, happy life, with upward social mobility and complete autonomy, if you decided to move.”

 

“Slaves can’t, but no one else wants to, either.” Mika sighs, flopping down onto his back. “‘Cause everyone knows, north of the border, everyone’s a racist prick an’ it ain’t like most people here can speak common. The _prince_ can’t. No one’s gonna give a Sandlands wanderer a job outside of scooping horse shit.” 

 

“You’re making excuses, because you think it’s easier than trying something new,” Shu says sternly. “If more of you moved north, no one would have anything to say about race, because there would be lots of you. And given some of the things I’ve heard down here, I’d think scooping horse dung would be a vast improvement over letting some fat, ugly, old, _ugly_ man beat you and relieve himself on your face.”

 

“I got stick arms. Some guy comin’ on my face is a lot easier than shoveling horse shit.”

 

“Of course you have stick arms, you’ve never held a shovel in your life. Do you really think you speak for everyone in the Sandlands when you say things like that? You’ve seen people have their limbs carved out. I saw a woman cry when her _owner_ sold her son’s arms. Is avoiding shoveling really worth that?” Shu hears his voice raise, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “I don’t mean to shout. I just don’t think an industry that treats people like products has any good points.”

 

Mika’s mouth twists, and he rolls onto his side, refusing to look at Shu any longer. “‘Course you don’t,” he mutters. “‘Cause y’don’t get it, and y’think it’s jus’ gonna stop ‘cause Rei says so. It’s not. That’s why it’s better to _fix it,_ an’ put some rules on it, ‘cause jus’ stoppin’ it cold turkey ain’t gonna do shit.” 

 

“And you think regulating it will? How?” Shu demands. “How would you fix it? Really, you know I might be able to get you into the meetings where they discuss such things.”

 

“If the prince was in charge, he’d understand and do it right,” Mika mutters. “A board regulatin’ the sales. Contracts that are approved before they get signed, like…set ones, at auction houses, that outlaw certain things. Th’ ability t’ buy yourself out of a contract, if you really don’t wanna do it anymore. Stuff like that.” He shakes his head, grabbing up a pillow and crushing it to his chest. “Talkin’ in front of a lot of people’s scary. I can’t do that.” 

 

“Do you want to sign on as an advisor or something? To the prince, perhaps?” Shu suggests, turning over possibilities in his mind. “I can work a long-distance, permanent speaking spell between you and he, and he trusts you.”

 

“…Maybe. Or…or maybe I should jus’…stay here.” 

 

Shu closes his mouth. Tears threaten to start in his eyes, so he stands, looking away, walking to the window and lacing his fingers together behind his back. “Very well. If it’s so important to you. But where will we live?”

 

“Master—you ain’t gotta stay here. You _can’t_. Rei’s…he’s not gonna stay here.” Mika hesitates, then quietly says, “I don’t know…what else t’do. Arashi…he’s gotta get married. He can’t keep me around.”

 

“You and I can’t be separated, don’t be absurd,” Shu snaps. “What would you do without me? Think things through before you suggest them, you fool.”

 

Mika’s lower lip wobbles, and tears start to leak from his eyes, no matter how he tries to stop them. “I…I d-dunno,” he whispers, burying his face down into the pillow. “I’m sorry. Real sorry. I d-don’t know what else t’do.”

 

“Nonsense,” Shu says briskly, turning from the window to fetch a soft cloth, dropping it on Mika’s lap. “You know enough that you’re willing to go against my very good advice not to. If you care this much, it must be important. So we’ll stay until this is taken care of.”

 

Mika sniffles, plucking up the cloth to wipe at his face, unconcerned about smearing makeup right now. “Rei’ll be upset,” he says. “He don’t want you to stay here. It’s…it’s not safe.” 

 

“Nowhere is safe.” That much Shu has known for years. “It doesn’t matter. I would rather be doing meaningful work, and I hesitantly admit that you likely know more about the Sandlands than I do, and especially about this industry.”

 

Mika hesitates for a moment longer before he lurches forward, throwing his arms around Shu’s neck and shoving his face down into his chest as he sobs, trembling all the way down to his toes. “I j-jus’ wanna h-help somehow,” he whispers. “This is th’ only way I know how, and…an’…it ain’t like I can do anythin’ _else_.” 

 

“You stop that sort of talk right now,” Shu says, though his voice is soft rather than stern, and his hands around Mika are gentle. “You can do so many things. I’m the useless one, lately, just staying up in the tower and making, what, more dog figurines? I wouldn’t have thought it…but a small part of me misses our campaigns in the Sharps, saving lives from Berserkers.”

 

“But I can’t even d-do _that_ anymore,” Mika huffs, his fingers curling tight into Shu’s robes. “‘C-cause I can’t be Arashi’s wizard. He’s gotta get _married_ , I’m j-jus’ makin’ it harder for him. If I jus’…stay down here, t-then maybe I ain’t gonna mess anythin’ else up.” 

 

Shu goes still, arms tightening. “Is that what this is really about? Are you afraid to face him? I just found out my lord is married, for _love_ , and has been for a century, isn’t that awful?”

 

Mika blinks a few times to clear the tears out of his eyes as he looks up at Shu. “K…kinda sounds like Rei,” he mumbles. “No offense. But he ain’t got rules about who he’s gotta be married to. Arashi does. An’ I’ve already made things complicated with Izumin’s kids without meanin’ to, so…so maybe if I stay away, they’ll all jus’…forget about me.” 

 

“Those kids _love_ you, don’t be ridiculous.” Shu says the words, but there’s a spark of rebellion in his eyes, and he tugs Mika closer. “Let’s have our own. Find some little child that needs a home and raise her down here, wouldn’t that be nice? To be a proper lady.”

 

Mika nods, sniffling wetly. “Who came up with th’ idea that wizards gotta be sterile, huh? I want babies. I’d be good at it.” 

 

“You’d be _incredible_ at it,” Shu corrects. “Ah, and don’t worry, Rei and I agreed to mute the bond whenever one of us wants to…you know. So I’m still yours, whenever.”

 

“…He’s gonna be cross,” Mika quietly points out. “‘bout the kid thing. ‘Cause he wants ‘em, too, like. A lot.” 

 

“I think all wizards are cross about it, myself included. I would have children with both of you, and spoil them both rotten.”

 

“No boys,” Mika murmurs, his head thinking down against Shu’s chest again. “Girls are better.” 

 

“Didn’t I say girls? Always girls. They’re more beautiful.”

 

Mika nods, his fingers curling against Shu’s back. “An’ you gotta tell Rei. I don’t want him to scold me. Scary.” 

 

“If he ever dared to say anything to you, I’d end his life,” Shu says firmly. “Of course I’ll tell him.”

 

“…About stayin’ down here for a bit, too. ‘Cause I can’t leave yet.” Mika shivers, then shakes his head. “No matter how scary that might get. I can’t.” 

 

“I hate this, can’t we just come back once the dust settles?” Shu complains. “Doesn’t that sound better? Honestly, Mika, do you have any idea what I’d do if something happened to you?”

 

“Blow up the world?” Mika suggests with a faint smile. “Master…you ain’t gotta stay. But I do.”

 

“Stop saying that,” Shu says softly, “like I could ever leave you. I stopped being able to do that when I gave you that eye. You know what it’s made of.”

 

“…Then Rei shouldn’t be upset, either. You know he knows.” Mika sticks his tongue out, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sick ’n tired of not bein’ able to see, about not bein’ able to use magic.” 

 

“Here. I’ll take care of it, so it’s over.” 

 

_My lord. Mika and I are staying in the Sandlands for a while. Maybe raising a child. Trying to fix the slave trade. Apologies._

 

_Come again?_

 

“R…right now?” Mika squeaks, blinking up at Shu. “I..is that okay? I’m all leaky, the ghosties might do stuff, is Rei really okay with that? It won’t mess anythin’ up?”

 

_Shu, I’m coming to where you are and we’re discussing this._

 

_I won’t leave where he is, Rei. We’re a set. You know that. You talking to me won’t change it._

 

“Doubtless he’ll want to reseal you,” Shu says with a sigh. “Ah, he’s on his way.”

 

It’s through the window that Rei slithers in before Mika has a chance to even argue about that further. Reflexively, Mika scuttles behind Shu—less at Rei’s presence, more at the _addition_ of another presence when he can’t really see it. “What’s this about you two staying down here?” he asks, arms folding across his chest. “When we _just_ spoke, Shu, and you were extremely enthusiastic about returning home?” 

 

“You know very well,” Shu says with a shrug, “that it isn’t this place I detest, it’s the act of espionage, at which I am very terrible. I can’t convince Mika to come home, therefore, I’m here. Sorry, my love.”

 

“What do you mean, you can’t convince him?” Rei deadpans. “Tell him you’re going. He’ll go. Mika?” 

 

Mika shakes his head firmly, even as he hides behind Shu and clings to the back of his robes. “I c-can’t.”

 

Rei exhales a long, frustrated breath, briefly shutting his eyes. “I’ve been planning things,” he patiently says, “around the assumption that neither of you would be here. For your _safety._ ” 

 

“Mika also,” Shu says with a smile, reaching over to pat Rei’s hands, “has some ideas about how we should restructure. And some ideas about protecting people while you do whatever it is you’re planning. You know, so to avoid the mass diaspora of unskilled workers into stable economies, since that _never_ ends poorly.”

 

“There’s nothing to restructure until I can get rid of the source of the problem—which will be _very dangerous_ , and therefore, neither of you need to be here for that,” Rei firmly says. “You can come back after we’re doing clearing out the trash. Arashi and Izumi are coming to escort you both _personally_.” 

 

Mika freezes at that, and shifts nervously behind Shu. “I don’t want Arashi to see me like this,” he hisses. “Why—why is he comin’? I thought he had to go…get married an’ stuff…”

 

“It seems as though Sena scooped him up from the West personally, so they’re both coming.” Rei spreads his hands. “Any other topics that need addressing?” 

 

“Yes,” Shu says, confused as he turns to face Mika. “Why don’t you want him to see you like this, you look very beautiful. I put that outfit together myself, and I take full responsibility for your hair.”

 

“Yes,” Shu says, confused as he turns to face Mika. “Why don’t you want him to see you like this, you look very beautiful. I put that outfit together myself, and I take full responsibility for your hair.”

 

“B…because…” Mika glances away, anxiety making him fidget. “I don’t want him to think I’m beautiful,” he quietly says. “I want him to forget about me…so I don’t cause him anymore problems.” 

 

“Ridiculous,” Shu says, and promptly grabs a blanket and flips it over Mika’s head. “I don’t want to hear any more nonsense. Good reasons only. You are a delightful human being, and I don’t want to hear about anyone being better off without you. Rei, how far away do we need to be? How long it this supposed to take?”

 

“I want you out of the country.” Rei folds his arms over his chest, a frown on his face. “I don’t know for how long, which is why I wanted you out entirely and back home by the end of the week for you to relax and not be concerned about it any longer.” 

 

Mika immediately huddles down underneath the blanket, turning into a ball underneath it. “I don’t wanna go.”

 

“I’m not going to force him,” Shu says with a shrug. “Rei, I assume that whatever you’re doing is going to leave the population of the Sandlands alive and well, or you wouldn’t condone it any more than I would. How unsafe could it possibly be?”

 

“This was a non-issue half an hour ago,” Rei exhales, raking a hand back through his hair as he turns away. “I _will_ teleport the two of you out of here and back to the Academy if I have to,” he threatens. “ _Please_ do not make me do that.” 

 

“I have no doubt that you would love to do that,” Shu assures him, “but you have _not_ perfected that spell yet. Are you really willing to test it on me?”

 

“…I’m going to give you until the end of the day to discuss this, and figure out a solution that does not involve the two of you staying _anywhere near_ the palace,” Rei flatly says, turning back towards the window. “Either way, the Kingsguard is on their way, and will be escorting you.” 

 

Shu folds his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “The more you prevaricate about what you’re going to do,” he says, voice clipped, “the less inclined I am to do as you say. I will _not_ be party to a genocide, Rei.”

 

“The only ‘genocide’ that will be occurring is amongst the slavers, and I won’t hear any arguments about that,” Rei firmly says. “I don’t care what kind of reform you want to see happen here—it can’t begin with the slave traders that are currently grinding this country to the ground.” 

 

“Right,” Shu says patiently, “but in that case, the addition of trained, competent, battle-experienced wizards can only help you. Please don’t forget that. Mika and I are hardly incompetent, wilting wallflowers.”

 

“You hate warfare, Shu. This is going to be a battleground. I won’t expose you to that again if I can help it. I have Kanata, and I have several enhanced and other capable humans here to help me. Go. _Home._ ” 

 

“Go home and dance in the flowers?” Shu asks, heat rising in his face as he stands, facing Rei head-on. “I started this because Mika asked me to, but now I’m starting to wonder if that’s all you think I’m good for!”

 

“I know exactly what you’re capable of!” Rei snaps, his own temper flaring as he turns back towards Shu. “But _you_ are the one that has told me time and time again that you hate being at war, you hate fighting, and violence, and everything that entails—so is it any surprise that I would do everything to keep you away from that?” 

 

“Yes, I hate it! I _hate_ it!” Shu’s hands ball into fists, and his power simmers under his seal, threatening to boil over. “I hate it...more than anything! I hate the death, and the horror, and the _smell_ , and the looks on everyone’s faces—but Rei, my love, my _lord_ …” He rests a hand on Rei’s face, their skin equally pale. “I love Mika. And I love you. And he won’t leave, and you won’t either. Where else would I belong, that I could do any good?”

 

Rei diverts his gaze as he sighs deeply, frustrated, _concerned_ , before he reaches up, grasping Shu’s wrist and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I don’t want you near that battlefield,” he calmly says. “That’s final. If you won’t make that decision, I _will_ do it for you.” _If Mika won’t leave, then at least take him out of the city. Please, I’m not trying to fight with either of you, I just need you both to stay safe._

 

Bonds are bad, Shu decides, as he fairly melts at the gentle touch, eyelids lidded as he nods. _I’ll make up an excuse if I must. I don’t want to be here. I just don’t want to leave when I could help both of you. I would rather do anything than lose you._

 

“…Good.” Rei leans forward, pressing a kiss to Shu’s forehead as well. _I have it handled on my end. Focus on Mika. Keep him safe. That’s what I need you to do._ “Contact me later with your plan. Do _not_ unseal him until you’re somewhere safe.” 

 

“Anywhere I seal him becomes less safe automatically,” Shu says dryly. _It would be so much easier to relax and ease his worries if you told me your plan…_

 

_The less you know, the safer you’ll be. I’m sorry, love. His mother is a large concern, though—I can tell you that much._ “I trust you to figure it out,” Rei says. “Just don’t let his little ghosties release themselves onto the population, obviously.” 

 

“Mika doesn’t want that any more than I do,” Shu assures him. _I hate this. Expect to make it up to me for quite a while_. “When exactly is everything expected to, ah, go pear-shaped?”

 

“You have about…twenty-four hours.” Rei smiles, and bends down to kiss Shu firmly. _I’m planning on it._ “Please. _Please_ , just stay safe. I’ll contact you when your escorts arrive—and you can boss them around however you like, so long as you aren’t _here._ ”

 

A brisk rap on the door is followed by the stroke of a fingertip through spells, dissolving them into fizzling white light. “Oi, Rei,” Kaoru’s voice comes, cheerful yet guarded. “I got something you need to see. Come be my bodyguard for a while.”

 

“Just a minute.” Rei presses a final kiss to Shu’s forehead. _I promise, I’m taking care of everything._ He steps back, shifting forms effortlessly, and Rei opens the door with a bow of his head. “You called, Milord?” 

 

_I hate that body. So brutish. Leave it on next time we make love._

 

“Oh, and Mister Toymaker? Some court lady’s looking for you,” Kaoru informs Shu, and then walks off with a wink, expecting Rei to fall in line behind him.

 

Shu purses his lips, turning to Mika. “I suppose I’m being summoned by my Lady. She’s awful, you know. I can’t wait until Rei…does what he must do. Meet me here at sundown, we’ll make a plan.”

 

_Are you serious? This is what you like now? Delightful._

 

Mika sullenly nods underneath his blanket, and curls up underneath it further, bunched up into a ball on the floor and obviously having no desire to move from that spot. 

 

“Did you have a good time with the ladies, Milord?” Rei casually asks as he follows at Kaoru’s heels. “You look…refreshed.” 

 

“The Sandlands certainly are hospitable, eh?” The tightness around Kaoru’s eyes says volumes about what he’s seen. “Everything’s proceeding well with my business. Should be good to go quite soon, eh?”

 

Rei’s head inclines. The idea of Shu and Mika being still _here_ throughout any of this sets his teeth on edge, but all he can do now is trust that Shu _will_ leave. “After the afternoon I’ve had, we’re more than ready to go,” he says. “Let’s go meet up with our friends, they should be arriving soon.” 


	49. Chapter 49

Mika, now all by his lonesome, frets in his chambers.

 

Hajime’s startled squeak follows, combined with the clatter of dropped teacups as he bolts backwards in surprise. Mika, pacing restlessly, plucking and pulling at the draping hems of his sleeves until they’ve absolutely unraveled, pauses, blinking, and peers around the corner of the open-air doorway as if he can actually _see_ anything.

 

Except, this time, the colors and aura reflecting off of the person is so bright that even Mika can see it, blurry vision and all.

 

“Your…Majesty?” he manages, stepping around Hajime’s hasty attempts to tidy up spilled tea. “Why are you here? Is Izumin here?”

 

“What? Who?” It’s strange enough that there’s a Sandlands courtesan where Leo had expected open ground, but much weirder to hear her talk to him in that breathy voice, to realize that he knows who Leo is, and to hear him refer to Izumi in that same way that Mika always had—

 

Leo falls back on his rump, eyes wide as he stares up at the courtly, perfumed vision that is his lover’s lover. “Wahaha! You look so different! Beautiful, but so weird!”

 

“T…thanks, I think,” Mika mumbles, rocking back onto his heels as he nervously shifts, eyeing Leo as he tries to process what he _can_ see. “ _You_ look different. Like—like Rei.” That’s how he _knows_ his own seal is starting to leak again—being able to see anything magically is stressful when he can’t _control_ it.

 

“Ehhh, really?” Leo stares, still unable to wrench his eyes away, then laughs. “Maybe it rubbed off, I saw him just yesterday. You’ve done so well, I heard you saved a bunch of kids! I have a present for you, too!” _Please like me please like me please like me please like me._

 

Mika blinks back at him until staring hurts, and he glances away, trying to shake it off. “I’m just doin’ what I was supposed to do.” Weird, _weird_. That’s so _much_ of Rei’s magic, that’s not just something rubbing off. “Um…a present? Now? That’s kinda…”

 

Hajime, recovered now from his spill, tentatively grabs for Mika’s elbow. “We should really get going, Excellency,” he whispers. “If we don’t, Master Nito will be annoyed and it’ll be more difficult to leave.”

 

Mika hesitates, then gloms onto an idea that’s definitely stupid, but _bound_ to be more productive than hopping aboard a caravan back to the Academy. _Sorry,_ kara, _Izumin. I haven’t done enough yet._ “Are y’here ‘cause of the trade now, too?” he abruptly says instead, shrugging Hajime off as he steps closer to Leo. “There’s more kids I couldn’t get my hands on.”

 

“Tell me where they are,” Leo says immediately. “Anything you know. Rei and them think it’s okay to save most people, but I won’t be satisfied until I save every single person I can, you know! I’ll go get them myself if I have to. Right after I duel Wynne, that coward.”

 

“I’ll take y’to them.” Mika pauses. “And Lord Wynne. I know where he likes to fuck his gross wife durin’ the day.”

 

“No—no, you can’t,” Hajime frantically protests, clinging to Mika’s arm. “We’re supposed to be going—you know it’s not safe here anymore, Excellency—“

 

“Mmhm, an’ so Master should go an’ so should you,” Mika says patiently, shrugging Hajime off again. “C’mon, Majesty. You wanna beat up Lord Wynne for Izumin, right?”

 

“Yes! If possible, I do want him to suffer before dying,” Leo agrees, tapping the hilt of his sword. He looks at the small blue-haired girl, frowning. “Have I met you? Am I supposed to know who you are?”

 

“S-s-someone like you would never know someone like me, Your Majesty!” Hajime squeaks, scuttling back. “I—I—I’m going to go tell Master Nito that you’re doing this!”

 

“Ahh…we better go, before Master hears about it and stops me,” Mika sighs, turning his head after the pitter-patter of Hajime’s feet hurrying from the room. “Mmnn, umm, this is a weird request, though—can I touch you?” He lifts a painted hand, wiggling his fingers. “Jus’ for a second.”

 

Leo’s head tilts so far to the side his ear nearly touches his shoulder. “Eh…why does everyone want to do that lately? First Rei, then you…what kind of weird vibe am I putting out?” Nevertheless, he extends a hand, palm-down, as slowly as if he’s trying to pet a baby deer, something as easily-spooked as he’s always felt Mika is.

 

“I dunno why Rei wanted to, but I jus’ wanna see if…” Mika hesitates, then goes for it, reaching forward to touch Leo’s palm with the tips of his fingers.

 

The reaction is instantaneous, and Mika jerks back with a gasp. The world snaps into sharp clarity around him, and he flinches, cringing and squeezing his right eye shut. “Ow, ow, ow—ahh, that _stings_ ,” he complains, lifting a hand to scrub at his eye. Sounds flood back as quickly as sight—the thudding of hearts he can’t even see, the strange way that magic moves through the Sandlands, the little, humming artifacts Shu has left about the room for protection—and Mika slowly forces his eye to open again, blinking a few times before it stops watering and blinks back at Leo as bright, strange gold again. “Ah. There it is. Ooh, that’s soo illegal.”

 

Leo’s head flops over to the other side, other ear on shoulder. “Eh? You can’t just do something like that and not tell me what’s going on, huh? C’mon, let me know! What’s wrong with me? What stings, huh?”

 

“He’s got a magic cancelin’ barrier on you,” Mika half-heartedly explains, blinking a few more times to make his eyes—well, eye—adjust to actual _sight_ again. “Nnn, so weird, I haven’t been able to see in months…mmn, anyway, it recognized Master’s magic an’ slurped it right up. It’s toootally illegal to put that kinda stuff on people, ‘cause, uh…ah, never mind, that part’s probably not important.”

 

Leo shrugs. “He was helping me, I think. I’m gonna believe it’s a help, anyway, since I feel so much better!” The idea of Rei having ulterior motives isn’t exactly _new_ , but he had hoped it had calmed down a bit after they’d started working together more closely. At least, it’s hard to believe that he would do something bad for no reason. “Anyway, I really do have an important present for you later, okay? It was suuuper hard to get, so don’t let me forget to give it to you. Right after we save everyone, and after I kill Wynne. Ahh, scheduling is so much…”

 

“It’s definitely, uh, some kinda help,” Mika settles upon, frowning at Leo before he turns away. “You ain’t gotta get me anythin’,” he dismisses, pulling open a drawer and pocketing one of the knives Hajime likes to tuck into odd places around his room. “You should worry more ‘bout Izumin and less about other people.”

 

“I do,” Leo assures him earnestly. “Ah, it’s a little late to say not to get you anything when I already did, right? Right? Anyway, take me to Lord Wynne, this has waited way too long, I can’t do right by Izumi as long as that bastard’s alive.”

 

Mika side-eyes him for a moment longer before he nods, more or less accepting that as a response for now. “ _Kara_ might already be there an’ killin’ him,” he lightly warns, pulling aside the curtain to his door and flipping the latch on it. He catches a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror— _yikes,_ it’s just so weird—and he tries to brush that off, letting his hair fall in front of his gold eye. “You’re slow.”

 

Leo’s mouth falls open, and he grabs Mika’s wrist, tugging him towards the door with not inconsiderable strength. “Then hurry, hurry!! I made a promise, I can’t let someone else take it from me!”

 

Mika squawks, dragged after Leo in short order and tripping over his own draping silks. “Then y’should’ve taken care of it earlier!” he protests, hiking them up to trot after him and keep up. “You’re gonna draw too much attention runnin’, I’m still supposed t’be under cover, y’know? Ahh, turn right down this hall, we gotta get out of th’ prostitutes’ side of the palace.”

 

“I couldn’t do it earlier,” Leo explains, ignoring the rest of Mika’s protestations. “He refused my duel on a matter of honor, and since I didn’t have any evidence, I couldn’t push it without alienating his whole homeland. Then the bastard ran away before I could kill him quietly!”

 

“You coulda. You jus’ didn’t _want_ to, ‘cause it’d be inconvenient.” Maybe that’s harsh, but Mika supposes he’s past mincing words. “You really wanna be _everyone’s_ friend, don’t you? Kings don’t get t’do that.”

 

The words hit Leo like stones dropping into a pond, and lines of pain appear at the corners of his eyes. “Not everyone,” he says softly. “Just the ones I love. Ahh, but if people hate me, there’s no helping it, for most of the world. As long as I do the right thing for the country, that’s what matters. That’s…how I used to think, before three years ago.”

 

Mika pulls himself to a halt, digging in his heels firmly. “The way you act, it looks like you want everyone in every country t’like you, no matter what,” he lowly says. “I hope it’s different now than it was three years ago. Lettin’ people get away with bad stuff that happens to th’ ones you love, that ain’t any way to in love with someone, let alone be king.”

 

Leo falters to a stop, then turns to face Mika, eyes shadowed. “Who would you choose to be born?” he asks suddenly, eyes bright and intent. “If you had your choice to be born with any parents you could possibly choose.”

 

“…I’d be th’ daughter of some nobles, just rich enough to be noticed by new noble families, maybe. And jus’ noble enough to be listened to in court.” Mika frowns back at him, unmoving. “Because no one wants to marry a whore, or listen to what one’s got to say. No one _wants_ t’be king, either, especially one like your shitty dad, but—ugh, never mind, you’re gonna do what you wanna do.”

 

That dismissive attitude—like he’s going to be hurt by whatever Leo says, no matter how nicely he says it or how well he means it—makes Leo grind his teeth, frustrated with his inability to get his feelings across. Mika always does this to him, somehow, and it makes him want to punch a wall. “Why’d Izumi have to love someone like you?” he demands, hands clenching at his sides. “It’s so inconvenient! Annoying!”

 

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t tell you what y’wanna hear every time?” Mika snaps back. He hadn’t _meant_ to let this escalate, but Leo is so _frustrating_ that biting his tongue is impossible now. “Izumin thinks you’re s~o good and perfect, and that everythin’ bad that’s ever happened is _his_ fault— _you’re_ the one that couldn’t stand up to that Emperor, and would’ve rather jus’ kept followin’ his lead forever instead of doin’ your job!”

 

“ _Don’t_ talk about something you don’t understand!” Leo’s voice comes out too-high, cracked, with a sudden edge of wild pain that surprises even him. “Don’t forget who finally killed him—even if it’s convenient for you! He—“ His voice breaks off, and he folds his arms, hoping it looks defiant instead of defenseless. “You’ve never been bonded. You can’t possibly understand.”

 

“You’re right, I don’t get it.” Mika’s voice, in sharp contrast, is low, and not without a warning edge to it. “I can’t imagine what it feels like, or felt like. But I’ve been th’ person left behind ‘cause of a bond before, so I know how Izumin feels.” His fingers twitch before curling up into the hems of his sleeves. “You make it even worse _now_ ‘cause you try so hard to be ‘the good, neutral king.’ Sometimes you gotta play favorites, you idiot. If you ain’t gonna, how’s he supposed to know he’s still someone special t’you? You’re bonded, you’re the _king_ —you’re a million times further away from him than you ever were before an’ y’act like it’s still the same! That’s why you piss me off so much.” He huffs, sniffling a little now that he’s fired up enough to start tearing up. “You say you’re here to duel Lord Wynne ‘cause he’s done somethin’ you can finally catch him for—bullshit. If y’aren’t tellin’ him straight to his stupid face and the rest of th’ world that it’s for Izumin’s honor, jus’ let _kara_ handle it. You’re in the fuckin’ Sandlands. Who _cares_ about your stupid capital rules here?”

 

Leo freezes, his heart thudding, pumping emotions through his veins. Sick guilt floods through him, melting into indignation, then shame. “I…isn’t that worse?” he asks, sounding lost. “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t everyone hate a king that did that kind of thing? Wouldn’t Izumi hate me for making it all public? I know he said he wanted it, but he _always_ tells me to do things he doesn’t really want me to do, you know that.”

 

Mika exhales a long breath, briefly closing his eyes to collect himself. There’s no use snapping back and letting his temper get the better of him when it sounds like Leo’s actually _trying_ to listen to him for a change. “He’s dumb,” he finally, bluntly says. “He doesn’t know _what_ he wants, most of th’ time. But see, you missed the chance t’be subtle about it, and kill ‘em in secret. It’s been years, Majesty; now you gotta make a point about it, ‘cause monsters like Wynne…they don’t even remember.” He sucks in a sharp breath before pressing forward to add one last thing: “And ain’t he supposed t’be your consort? I know he ain’t a lady, but you’re still supposed t’be _protective_ of him, right? ‘Cause you ain’t, everyone that hates him in the capital—they see it as a free pass to do an’ say whatever they want. Why do you think he runs off with _kara_ all th’ time? He…he feels safer.”

 

“You’re wrong.” Leo clings to that idea, that hope that he’s not completely wrong in everything he knows about the man he loves. “He’s—he got so angry at me the last time I put myself in danger to protect him, he doesn’t like it when I do that. Even now, when I told him I was going after Lord Wynne, he looked like I’d grabbed him by the lung!”

 

“Of _course_ he’s gonna get mad, he’s always gonna get mad!” Mika exasperatedly says, and he reaches out, hesitating for a second before he grabs Leo’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “He’s never gonna say it, ‘cause he’s so stupid and prideful, but it hurts his feelings when you don’t stick up for him. I get it, you’re the king, but you’ve _gotta_. If you aren’t gonna stick up for the one you love…” Mika shrugs helplessly. “Wouldn’t you, if he was your queen?”

 

Leo opens his mouth, then closes it again. He thinks about that for a while, probably longer than Mika had expected, and lets out a slow, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I would. I wish he’d let me protect him like a queen. But what about his pride, as a member of my Kingsguard, and as a noble, and as a man? I don’t want to take that from him, either.”

 

“I’m not sayin’ there’s one way to go about it that’s right or wrong.” Mika sighs, shutting his eyes. “But what I am sayin’—he’s not hidin’ that you two are together. I think he understands that some people are gonna be stupid about it by now. You gotta back him up, or he…he’s jus’ gonna be left out in the cold, y’know, and it’ll be so _much_ worse, and he ends up looking like…like he’s jus’ your bedwarmer, and you don’t really give a shit.” He squeezes Leo’s hands firmly. “And with this stuff, with Lord Wynne…he asked y’to take care of it. You gotta do it in a way that’s gonna mean something now.”

 

The words make sense, unfortunately. Leo squeezes Mika’s hands, huffing out a breath. “See, this is why we need to be close friends, you know? You’ll say things to me that other people don’t. And I need to hear them.”

 

“…I’d talk t’you more, but—“ Mika hesitates, then sighs, hanging his head. “You’re so _loud_. I’m not good with people like that…”

 

“What if…I whisper?” Leo lowers his voice, shifting closer, looking earnestly into Mika’s mismatched eyes. “I really want you to like me, you know? You’re so special to Izumi, and he’s…he’s the reason I’m alive.”

 

“It’s not like I hate you or anythin’,” Mika mumbles, suddenly self-conscious. He fidgets, glancing down. “You’re jus’—a lot—an’…and I’ve seen him cry over you so I get defensive. I ain’t got a lot of people, y’know? I wanna take care of the ones I’ve got.”

 

“You’ve got me.” Leo lets go of Mika’s hands, and gently musses his hair.

 

“Mm.” Mika huffs, ducking out from underneath Leo’s touch and half-heartedly attempting to smooth his hair back down. “Good luck, Majesty.”

 

Running into Lord Wynne himself is not how Mika wants to finish up his day. Instead, he leaves Leo to his own task, escaping back towards his quarters. Even that seems…stressful, not private enough, especially with the whole palace a-flutter, and he slips out the back of them into the open courtyard, arms wrapped about himself as he tries to catch his breath, tries to think, tries to breathe.

 

With his seal gone, the world is too bright and too colorful. The courtyard is mostly empty except for what appears to be someone wrestling with their pet dog, which he decides to ignore until a flash of gold hair draws his attention. Mika blinks, head tilting, and he slowly drifts closer, peering over the thorny hedges surrounding the tiled ground.

 

That’s…that’s a _snog_.

 

Not only is it a snog, but it’s _Arashi_ with a snog. He stares, open-mouthed, wide-eyed, and unable to move. He’s hallucinating. The rush of magic coming back to him is too much, maybe even the heat after so long without it, or maybe the stress. There’s no way it could be Arashi…and a _snog._

 

“Come _on_ , Boots, we’ve been through this! You’re supposed to be on your best behavior, you’re about to meet your master! And you’re going to be _nice_ to him, a lot nicer than all other animals, yeah? Because otherwise, your name is going to be a fucking _prophecy_ , you piece of shit monster, I’m going to _skin_ you—“

 

Arashi growls every time the horrible beast lashes him with that awful spiny tail, which he catches on his thick leather vambraces. With one hard wallop behind the ear-spines, the awful creature subsides, sitting mutinously at his feet. “That’s better,” Arashi says, brushing his sweat-damp hair back from his face, wrapping the leash tightly around his hand. “Now, time to climb up to—“

 

He looks around, and his voice dies in his throat. 

 

He’s never seen Mika primped and combed, properly adorned with lacy veils and gauzes and bangles. He’s never seen Mika’s hair corralled by jewels and bands, or his skin brushed with golden glitter. His breath catches in his chest, and he takes one, trembling step forward. “ _Amaka_ ,” he whispers, eyes glimmering.

 

And then Boots takes the opportunity to try and break from him, yanking horribly against the leash. “ _No_ , you monster! You be nice to him, I’ll eat your family!”

 

Boots, as he’s so named, lurches forward, yanking the leash out of Arashi’s hand in one last, horrifically strong pull. He hisses, lunging forward, tail lashing, spines flaring—

 

…before he simply slows to a trot in front of Mika, sits down, and all of the spines retract, creating a smooth, scaly texture down the creature’s back instead.

 

Mika blinks rapidly, too stunned to even speak. “ _K…kara?_ ” he manages, looking between the snog, then Arashi, with tears slowly welling up into his eyes. 

 

Arashi stops dead, eyes wide, staring at the awful creature currently wagging its tail. “That…um, he’s a present,” he says lamely, then breaks into a run, vaulting directly over the stupid snog and grabbing Mika by the waist, whirling him around. “ _Amaka_ , _amaka_ , I’ve missed you so much!”

 

Mika’s arms fasten to Arashi’s neck, clinging there relentlessly as he hides his face into that strong, broad chest. “ _Kara_ ,” he whispers again, trembling as he clings, dangling half a foot off the ground when Arashi holds him. “I c-can’t believe you’re here…” 

 

Sharp teeth sink into Arashi’s ankle, and he yelps, setting Mika down to scowl back at the snog. “Oh. And this is Boots, he’s for you. The king sent him, me and Izumi trained him. We thought, you know, you love him so much…but if he hurts you, I _will_ turn him into—why’s he putting his spines away? I didn’t even know they could! Do you have any idea how many times I’ve hurt myself on those?”

 

Mika blinks away his tears, trying to keep them further at bay so that he doesn’t mess up his makeup— _again_ —and he looks down at the snog, entranced. “B…Boots?” he echoes, his brow furrowing. “That’s a bad name, _kara_.” 

 

“Who cares, you’re _beautiful_ ,” Arashi whispers, then shakes his head, glaring down at the snog. “It’s to remind him of what he’s going to become if he’s mean to you. Er, actually, I think it was because the king thought his foot spines were a lighter shade of, um, scale?”

 

“…He needs a way cuter name,” Mika mumbles, not quite able to meet Arashi’s eyes as he distracts himself with the snog. He crouches down, extending a tentative hand, in which the snog promptly opens his snarling, venom-dripping mouth—and extends a strange split tongue to lick him like a dog. “Like…Cupcake.”

 

Arashi slowly sits down on the ground, folding his legs, slumping down with his head in his hands. “Of course. Cupcake. Look, he likes you. Of course he does.”

 

Mika slowly pets his hand down the back of Boots-now-Cupcake’s head, and his eyes widen. “He’s so… _soft._ I knew it. I knew snogs were soft! _Kara_ , he’s real soft, I _knew it_.” 

 

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Arashi says, sounding dazed.

 

“Maybe he likes me ‘cause I smell like death,” Mika says sagely. Cupcake slowly rolls over, like a dog, feet in the air. “Animals know. _Especially_ snogs.” 

 

“The king almost died to get you that snog.” Arashi slowly relaxes from his rigid, terrified certainty that their effort would result in Mika being poisoned by stupid Boots—er, Cupcake. “Just so you know. Oh, and me and Izumi have been stabbed by him about thirty times each.”

 

“Neat.” Mika reaches out to toy with one of the snog’s…paws? Feet? Mystery. Its claws recede as well, leaving nothing but fleshy, scaly pads behind. “He’s good. I’m keeping him.” 

 

“Good. You deserve a pet that knows how good you are.”

 

“He’s got nice feet,” Mika distractedly mutters, squeezing one of Cupcake’s paws again before he straightens to his feet, smoothing the mess of organza and jewelry back into place. “U-um…so…you don’t think I look weird?” 

 

Suddenly, Arashi remembers his promise to Izumi, and nearly chokes. He sucks in a breath, and says, before he can chicken out, “You look good enough to spend the rest of my life with. And I want to. I came down here to ask you, ah…marry me. Please.”

 

“W…what?” Mika squeaks, abruptly jerking back, eyes wide. “I thought—I heard you were gettin’ married to a girl!”

 

Arashi stands, brushing off his trousers, and extends a hand, hoping it isn’t shaking too badly. “She died. They betrothed me to another one, but… _amaka_ , I don’t want to marry a girl. I want you. I’ll change the laws, and if they don’t like it, I’ll quit and join the Kingsguard like Izumi. If…if you want me.” _I’m afraid he’ll say no_ , he had told Izumi, and the fear is real now, so real his ankles are trembling.

 

Mika bites at one rouged lip, trembling even more than Arashi as he slowly extends a hand, painted fingers curling against Arashi’s palm. “I don’t…want you to lose everythin’, ‘cause of me,” he whispers. “That’s what’ll happen, if you’ve gotta join the Kingsguard…right? All the land you worked for, your army, everything…” 

 

“And you want me to live a lie forever?” Arashi asks, stepping close, squeezing that hand, drawing in a shaking breath. “I won’t do it. Even if you say no, I won’t marry a woman and live that lie. If the king can do it, I can, can’t I? And if not…I wasn’t a Lord all my life, _amaka_.”

 

“But the king _hasn’t_ done it,” Mika points out, his fingers shaking as he holds tightly to Arashi’s hand. “He doesn’t have the balls,” he adds, laughing wetly, glancing down at where he holds Arashi’s hand, clinging to him. “I g-guess you’ve got more, but…I…” He sniffs, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “I w-want to. I wanna marry you, but— _only_ if nothin’ bad happens to you, I couldn’t stand it.” 

 

“Bad things kind of always happen to all of us, my dear,” Arashi says with a watery smile. “But like…what we do, that’s what’s important, right? What we do after the bad stuff, and how we handle it?”

 

“That’s not fair,” Mika mumbles, sniffling loudly. “I wanted you to go off an’ live happily ever after without havin’ to worry about me anymore.” 

 

“…I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Arashi says, grabbing Mika and crushing his face into his chest. “How could I be happy without you? You’re my _amaka_ , aren’t you?”

 

Mika trembles, and then promptly clings to Arashi anew, stretching up on tiptoe to stuff his face into his neck. “I can’t do noble parties an’ stuff like that,” he whispers. “Is that okay?” 

 

“Fuck parties,” Arashi says, hands around Mika, lifting him off of his feet. “Sweetheart, I’m a _Western_ Lord, not a Capital one. We don’t have parties, we sit around and drink beer and glare at dice games, I never go anyway.”

 

Mika sniffles as he dangles, bare feet swaying. Cupcake whines—again, just like a very disturbing dog, complete with a little hiss around the edges—and lets his big, heavy tail flop against the ground. “Okay,” he whispers. “I wanna marry you. Like—a lot.” 

 

Arashi promptly bursts into tears, falling to his knees to sob into his hands. “I-I-I really, really th-thought you were gonna say no,” he wails, all of his anxiety breaking through at last.

 

Mika bites back a squawk, stumbling backwards to blink rapidly down at Arashi. “W..what?” he manages, eyes wide. “ _Kara_ , you’re crazy! Why would I ever say no? You’re so dumb! Ah, Cupcake, nooo, don’t try to bite him,” Mika begs, lurching forward to scoop up the snog before he can snap at Arashi’s face. The creature goes limp when Mika picks him up, tail swishing, tongue snaking out. “Be sweet, you gotta be sweet.”

 

Arashi wipes his eyes, red and puffy now. “B-but you love your master so much,” he says, voice wobbling. “A-and, and there’s Izumi, and also you’re a famous wizard and I’m _dumb_ , I’m a disaster, all I can do is hit things with swords, you’re so fancy...”

 

“I _like_ that you can hit things with swords real good,” Mika plaintively says, dropping down to his knees in front of Arashi, Cupcake the snog cradled against his chest. “ _Kara…_ I love my master, you’re right, but he’s got Rei, y’know? And Izumin’s got the king, right? I ain’t that famous, I jus’ killed a lot of things, ’s not like I’m a Nightcloak, I…” His lower lip wobbles again. “ _Kara_ , don’t cry, I’ll cry again, master’ll get mad if I mess up my make up again…” 

 

“Is that beast getting smaller the more you cuddle it?” Arashi asks, suspicious. “And are you accepting? I’m your husband, right? You want me, you want me to be your husband?”

 

“Eh? I dunno—I mean, I definitely wanna marry you,” Mika huffs, squeezing the snog again. Cupcake gurgles. “But I dunno if he’s gettin’ smaller. If he does, he’s gonna be cuter.” 

 

Regardless of the snurfling creature in Mika’s arms, Arashi leans in close and kisses him soundly, fingertips touching under Mika’s chin to tilt it up. “You made me so happy,” he whispers. “I love you so much. Is there…a way to say that in Sandtongue? That would make you happy?”

 

Mika’s face flushes hot, and he shakes his head firmly, glancing down. “If you say it in Sandtongue, then it won’t be the same,” he murmurs. “I want a handsome foreigner to steal me away and marry me.” 

 

“Is that the fantasy, in every little Sandland child’s life?” Arashi asks with a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Mika’s ear. “To have a handsome foreign lord as a client, then be carried off and married? I _can_ make that happen.”

 

“It’s the fantasy for dumb people,” Mika softly says, glancing up nervously through his lashes. “I…always kinda dreamed about the kinda thing I’m fakin’ right now.” 

 

“To be a fancy whore to kings?” Arashi sighs, leaning back. “I wish I could make it come true for you. Prostitutes in the West are never so lovely or revered, or I’d give you that. Mm, but you’re welcome to dress like that as my foreign lady-husband, _really_ make the hidebound old bastards nervous.”

 

“When I get out of here,” Mika says, very seriously, “I’m never gonna put makeup on or dress up again. I’m gonna hide in your room and scream.” 

 

“Wait, I thought that was your fantasy!”

 

“In the _Sandlands._ ” 

 

“Ah. Okay. What’s the Western fantasy?”

 

“Have a _snog army_.” 

 

“ _Amaka_ , please, I still don’t even know what they eat.”

 

“I bet it’s bugs.” Mika pets the weird thing, pleased by its gurgling. “ _Kara…_ Rei already told me you’re here to take me home, but I can’t go yet.” 

 

“Is that what he said?” Arashi asks, smiling. “I’m here to see you, and to keep you safe. Wherever you are.”

 

“He said you and Izumin were gonna take us home,” Mika warily says, bouncing the snog in his arms like it’s his baby. “You’re not tryin’ t’ trick me, are you?”

 

Arashi snorts. “I don’t care what fancy wizards decide I’m here to do, I’m a Lord in my own right. And doubtless, Izumi won’t go anywhere without the King, who’s also down here. Wizards like to make grand plans, but us lowly people who carry them out are pretty important too, don’t you think?”

 

“I mean…yeah, of course, but…” Mika hesitates, then shakes his head, huffing. “Fuck it. Rei’s got plans and I don’t like ‘em an’ I wanna stay and _do_ things. But I’m done bein’ a fancy whore, I wanna go be a wizard again. With an _attack_ _snog._ ” 

 

“Yay! I want to be a very scary, battle-hardened lord with a _wizard_ on my arm, who definitely has an attack snog!” _As long as it doesn’t kill us all in our sleep. Even if it does…as long as you smile…_ “What should we do first?”

 

“First things first, we gotta kill my mom.” 

 

“Your…is that, um, slang? For like, the person who trained you to be a prostitute?”

 

“I mean—she did that, yeah, but I mean…my actual mom.” Mika sighs, and sets Cupcake back down to the ground. He then proceeds to rub and nuzzle up against Mika’s legs like a cat. “She’s th’ ringleader,” he quietly says. “Can we…go somewhere else to talk about this?” 

 

“You lead the way, love.” Arashi beams. “I have no idea where I am, I’ve only been down here once, as a soldier.”

 

Mika grabs Arashi’s hand, pulling him along. Cupcake waddles after them, hissing at every little rustle and flutter of wind. “I saw th’ king,” he adds, pulling Arashi past the patio of his chambers and inside. “And I told him off. I think maybe he’s gonna go kill some bad people, and maybe get the balls to marry Izumin.”

 

Arashi’s eyes go wide, and he grabs Mika’s arm. “Is he in danger? He’s the _king_ , i he’s throwing himself into danger, it’s my sworn duty to protect him. Where did he go?”

 

“No,” Mika abruptly says, turning in Arashi’s grasp to look up at him. “You ain’t goin’ to find him. He’s busy.” 

 

Arashi grinds his teeth. “Mika, love, what did you tell him to do? He’s a good swordsman, but he’s, he’s fragile, he’s not magic or part-anything, you know?”

 

“I didn’t tell ‘em to _do_ nothin’.” Mika scowls up at him. “Lord Wynne’s here.” 

 

“Lord Wynne? Oh, _excellent_ , I’ve wanted to kill him for ages, I doubt anyone will notice one more bastard showing up dead, where is he?”

 

“ _Kara_ ,” Mika firmly says, latching himself onto one of Arashi’s arms. “Th’ king’s gotta do it. If he don’t, that’s part of th’ _problem,_ an’ he and Izumin are gonna break up.”

 

“You don’t understand. I swore to Izumi that I’d be the one to hunt them down. I—“ Arashi scrubs at his face with one hand, frustrated. “I haven’t been holding up my end. I’ve been, I don’t know, really wrapped up in my own problems, like an ass. But if he’s here, I’ve got to do something. You understand that, right, _amaka_? He…he killed my demons. I can’t give him less than that.”

 

“Izumin _knows_ you mean it. You’ve killed some of ‘em for him before, you made a _point_ of it—the king, though, he’s—“ Mika exhales, frustrated, trying not to stomp his foot. “If he don’t say nothin’, it’s never gonna get better. He’s gotta chase this guy down an’ _tell him_ why he’s getti’ his ass kicked. You can have th’ next one; let the king do this one and do it right for once, so he stops bein’ terrible.”

 

“Do you have sand between your ears?” Arashi demands, hand already on the hilt of his sword, looking around as if the maze of the palace will part to reveal Leo somewhere. “Letting him defend Izumi is all well and good, but Wynne isn’t a lightweight, what if the king _dies_ for this? A country in chaos, your friend dead, Izumi on the warpath—hell, he’ll probably kill _me_ for letting it happen—where is he? Just—I’ll let Leo challenge him, then step in as his champion, that’s best for everyone, right?”

 

Mika’s lips purse. He sits down on the end of his bed, crossing his legs. Cupcake jumps up onto the bed, snuffling around in the sheets. “Dunno where he is,” he says. “ _Kara_. If somethin’ happened t’me and you needed t’be the one to fix it, and you finally were gonna do it but someone else jumped in, you’d be pissed, right?” 

 

“But I need to fix this too!” Arashi protests. “Izumi…he’s special to more than just one person, you know? I might be marrying you, but I love him too, and I’d do anything for him. And gods, seriously, what do you think we can do if the king dies? Don’t you think Izumi would be more upset about that than if Lord Wynne got away? Ugh, if you won’t help me, I’ll find him myself,” he mutters, turning and yanking the door open.

 

“It ain’t gonna mean anythin’ if you don’t let the king do it himself!” 

 

Mika grits his teeth, his hands fisted against the bedsheets. “If Lord Wynne kills the king, I think Izumin would at least be happy that he tried to defend his honor instead of runnin’ away like a weaklin’. If you chase after him right now, I’m not gonna be here when you get back ‘cause I’m gonna go try and kill all the slavers myself with Rei!” 

 

Arashi’s eyes flash, and he grabs Mika around the waist, tossing him over one shoulder as he stalks out of the room, prowling like a cat on the hunt. His arm isn’t tight enough to cause pain, but it _is_ unmovable. “I don’t give a shit if it means anything or not, at this point,” he growls. “I’m not letting Izumi turn into a broken shell of a person because you think the king needs to die for something important. What do you have against him, huh? He’s been nothing but good to you, he tamed a snog for you!”

 

“Put me down!” Mika hisses, smacking a hand uselessly against Arashi’s back. Cupcake bounds after them, growling and hissing, spines starting to reappear. “ _Kara_ , put me _down_ —I ain’t got nothin’ against the king, it ain’t like I want him to die! I talked to him before _you_ showed up, you’re the one bein’ dumb and not listenin’ t’ me! You gotta let the king do this or nothin’s ever gonna be right again!”

 

“You don’t know that! As long as Leo confronts him, that’s fine! But I’m not letting the king die because you think Leo has something to apologize for!”

 

“ _He_ thinks he does, you jerk, not me!” Mika kicks and squirms, growling low in his throat. “But he ain’t wrong! He’s gotta stand up for Izumin for a change, let everyone know he’s on his side, actually _marry_ him an’ be a man! I’m gonna scream,” he suddenly threatens. “If I scream, the prince’ll come an’ get you.” 

 

“You’re bluffing,” Arashi guesses, stalking through the halls, looking down every corridor. “You’re supposed to be a whore, right? I’ve heard thirty people yelling like that since we got here. And the king is an _idiot_ , everyone knows that! That doesn’t mean I don’t have to protect him!”

 

“I’m the _prince’s_ whore, it’s different,” Mika insistently says, though he resists screaming—for the time being. “You don’t gotta protect him right now, _kara_. Rei’s already got a protection spell on him, he _ain’t_ gonna die!” 

 

“Don’t trust it,” Arashi says bluntly. “Better to keep him from dying. He’s _little_ , don’t you know how big Lord Wynne is?”

 

“ _Izumin’s_ little. I’ve seen _him_ dump big scary men on their asses.”

 

“He’s fucking immortal!”

 

“I’m gonna scream.”

 

“Are you going to be my husband or not?” Arashi demands, eyes flashing. “You think he has something to atone for? I swore a _blood pact_ to protect him, _amaka_ , I can’t let him die or _I’ll die_ , you know that, right?”

 

“…Put me down,” Mika lowly says, digging his nails into Arashi’s back, “or I’m gonna scream, and I’m gonna blow everyone’s cover.” 

 

“Who cares? We’re here to blow the lid off of the whole thing.”

 

“Not until Rei says so.” Mika sighs, and sags down over Arashi’s back. “I _hate_ when y’don’t listen to me.” 

 

“I’m listening. I am, I promise. But…” Arashi grimaces. “It doesn’t change what I have to do. I have a duty, you know? To both of them.”

 

“He’s probably already fought an’ killed th’ guy,” Mika finally offers up. “I showed him where to find Lord Wynne over an hour ago.” 

 

“He’s also an idiot that gets lost easily,” Arashi points out. “Show me where you pointed him…. _please_ , I need to. If you’re right, he might be lying in a pool of blood.”

 

Mika’s mouth purses, and he watches Cupcake, bouncing up on his hind legs to try and lick at Mika’s face as he dangles. “Take a right up ahead,” he wearily says. “And keep goin’ for about five minutes. Private quarters are down that way.”

 

“Five minutes sounds like a challenge,” Arashi says under his breath. “You want to walk? Go somewhere else? Or is this good?”

 

“ _Now_ I get a choice?” Mika deadpans, kicking his feet. “I wanted t’go and tell you about things, but noooo, you gotta go run off and save the king.”

 

“You can tell me about things along the way, if you can keep up,” Arashi says cheerfully, and starts striding quickly, turning right where Mika had pointed. “Lots of things happened up North, too! Ruka changed her hair, Izumi told me about it.”

 

“No offense, but my conversation’s kinda one that needs to be more…private?” Mika grumbles. “I’m startin’ t’ remember why I like the south already…” 

 

“Arashi?” 

 

The familiar voice makes Mika jump, and he blinks, head whipping up in time to catch sight of Izumi himself, dressed to the nines to look like a proper Captain of the Kingsguard in spite of the heat. “Where’s that wretched animal?” he demands, striding towards Arashi. “Did you lose it? You know you can’t let that—wait, is that Mika? Holy shit.” 

 

“He’s there,” Arashi says, nodding down to the weird, slippery creature following at Mika’s heels without slowing his stride. “Izumi, hey, guess who said yes! Oh, more importantly, we have to go stop the king from dying. Keep up!”

 

“ _What?_ ” 

 

Izumi immediately falls into stride with Arashi, barely able to spare Mika (and the following of Cupcake) a single glance before he’s drilling Arashi with questions. “What do you _mean_ we have to stop the king from dying?” he lowly asks. “Since when is Leo here?” 

 

“He’s around,” Mika pipes up, a little out of breath as he struggles to keep up. “Izumin, _kara_ —c’mon, you’re walkin’ real fast and I _can’t_ in all this, y’know!” 

 

Arashi shrugs, then scoops Mika again, tossing him over a shoulder without pausing. “He’s gone to fight Lord Wynne, which is _really rude_ , since _I’m_ going to kill him, so let’s just find him before he takes my fun, eh?”

 

Izumi’s mouth falls open. “He’s— _what?_ What the fuck, why is he even here?!” 

 

Mika huffs as he falls into place on Arashi’s shoulder again, scowling back down at Cupcake, who trots along in his merry snog way. “How long have you known about this?” Izumi demands, grabbing at Arashi’s sleeve. “Did you just find out? About Leo, about—Lord Wynne?” 

 

“I just found out,” Arashi says with a glare at Mika’s ass, walking even faster, “because _someone_ just saw fit to tell me, and probably killed the king. Oh, by the way, he said yes! We’re getting married!”

 

“I didn’t kill the damned king,” Mika snaps, lifting his head before letting it flop back down, hair and jewelry and all. “He wanted to go alone! He was makin’ a point for you, Izumin!”

 

“I don’t have time to deal with this,” Izumi snaps, releasing Arashi with a shove. “Where are we going? Tell me.”

 

“Private quarters,” Mika pipes up, much more willing to volunteer information to Izumi. “Up ahead, there’s three doors, he’s gonna be out in one of their courtyards—“

 

With that, Izumi bolts away, leaving Arashi in his wake.

 

“Why are you being so chatty with him and not me?” Arashi demands, steps quickening. “He’s going to do the same thing I would!” He walks faster, yanking the door to the courtyard open, but all he finds is Izumi staring down at a pile of blood, and the king’s discarded sword on the ground.

 

He sucks in a breath. “Where…who…shit. We have to find him.”

 

Cupcake trots forward, starting to lap at the blood on the ground as if it’s a delicious treat. Izumi tries not to look as panicked as he feels, trembling as his fingers stay curled around his own sword, white-knuckled before he crouches down, plucking up Leo’s sword, and then extends a hand to dip his fingers into the bloody mess left behind.

 

Then, he licks it, grimacing after he does and spitting it out in short order. “It’s not Leo’s,” he mutters, straightening to his feet. “Don’t ask me how I know.”

 

“Creepy,” Mika says, twisting around on Arashi’s shoulder to watch. “Where is he, then?” 

 

“Can’t your snog track it?” Arashi asks, trying not to sound sarcastic, even as he raises up on his tiptoes, looking around as if he’ll find Leo if he’s tall enough. “Let’s split up, you want east or west?”

 

“He’s out front, I bet,” Mika says, drumming his fingers against Arashi’s back. “I told him he needed t’ do it right this time, or not at all.” 

 

“Out in the front of the palace?” Izumi repeats, sounding almost frantic. “Why? What did you tell him to do? He’s the king, he can’t just—do that here!” 

 

“’s not like I gave ‘em specifics. Jus’ do what was right.” 

 

Arashi wipes the sweat from his forehead, far more from the heat than the exertion. “What’s the fastest way?” he asks Mika, voice starting to get frantic. “Is there a wall I can punch through or something? Was the blood still warm?”

 

“Around the grounds, not through th’ palace.” Mika hoists himself up, pointing out of the courtyard. “I could try to ask Cupcake t’ track him, but—“

 

Izumi, with even just that little bit of knowledge, is already gone, taking off at a dead run. 

 

“Not fair, I’m definitely handicapped in this race,” Arashi says under his breath, setting off after Izumi as fast as he can without dislodging Mika on his shoulder. “What if the king gets arrested, huh? Did you think about that?”

 

Arashi, at least, is a very smooth ride. Mika sinks his nails into Arashi’s back for support at least, with Cupcake dawdling quite some distance behind. “He’s the king,” he says, unfazed entirely. “Ain’t nobody gonna arrest him, an’ if they do, he’s got ways out of it.” 

 

“Because they always follow all of the Crown’s laws down here?” Arashi demands. “What if those nobles decide he’s too much trouble after all of this, and just gang up on him and kill him? Or throw him in a dungeon and pretend they don’t know who he is? Izumi, go, I’ll catch up!”

 

“People in the Sandlands can tell if a person’s got money, you know!” Mika snaps, thumping a hand against Arashi’s back. “You guys gotta stop coddlin’ him! If he’s gonna be king, he’s gotta do some work himself!”

 

Izumi ignores them. 

 

The idea of Leo fighting a man like that alone—no backup, not another sword in sight—makes his breath catch. It makes him run faster, dodging around half a dozen palace guards to get to the front gates, legs trembling as he runs around the corner, stumbling abruptly to a stop. 

 

Lord Wynne, bent and bloody—

 

Leo, with Wynne’s sword in hand, standing over him—

 

“Leo,” Izumi whispers, his fingers shaking as he grips his own sword. _Why didn’t you tell me you were here?_

 

Leo straightens up, green eyes blazing, hand and arm firm on the hilt of the stolen sword. “If I were acting as king, I’d find you guilty,” he says, voice ringing in the still air of the courtyard. “Of treason, torture, and high crimes. And I would give you a chance to repent.” 

 

He looks up, and meets Izumi’s eyes. “But I’m here as a man.” 

 

And the sword he’d wrested away from Lord Wynne plunges through the man’s thick neck, then jerks swiftly to one side, then the other, and the man’s head hits the floor a full second before his body.

 

It’s probably in poor taste, the way his heart pounds like a maiden’s watching some tournament—but that has happened before with Leo, damn him, so this isn’t that much different…except it means so, _so_ much more. 

 

Izumi swallows hard, still for a moment, frozen in place, before his legs remember how to move, and he’s walking, then running forward, leaping over that bloody, fallen body to grab Leo up in his arms, burying his face down into that head of flaming hair. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Leo whispers, dropping the sword, wrapping all four limbs around Izumi as tightly as possible. “It took too long, I was a coward, I wasn’t good enough—“

 

“Shut up,” Izumi whispers back, hoisting him up and squeezing Leo firmly. “It’s fine, you idiot, it’s fine—I can’t _believe you_ , why are you here, you didn’t have to—to do this, you _idiot_.” 

 

“Love you,” Leo says into Izumi’s shoulder. “Love you. I’m sorry I have to be a king when I should just follow you around and love you all the time.”

 

“Shut _up_ ,” Izumi repeats again, this time rather wetly. His hands tremble, and he squeezes Leo again tightly before slowly setting him down to his feet, and passing over his previously discarded sword with shaking fingers. “You left this behind, Your Majesty.” 

 

Leo’s face brightens, and he takes the sword, wiping the blade off on the fine linen of his trousers. “Thanks, I dropped that! He knocked it out of my hand, so I had to take his, obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Izumi quietly says, shoulders sagging. “You idiot. How long have you been here? It’s not safe, you shouldn’t have—“ 

 

There’s a shout from the guards that have finally caught onto what is going on, that someone has been killed, and Izumi grabs Leo by the arm, hauling him back close to the white sandstone walls of the palace, away from the main gate. “And you feel…strange,” he murmurs, his eyes looking Leo up and down. “I can’t tell how, but—strange.” 

 

“Maybe I’m feeling _better_ ,” Leo suggests. He vibrates under his skin a little, and then says, a bit guiltily, “Sorry to ask, I meant to do this all by myself, but, uh, do you have any extra energy? I think I got a little stabbed.”

 

“What? Where? Why didn’t you say so immediately?” Izumi hisses, just barely resisting the urge to shake Leo by the shoulders. “This is why I didn’t want you down here—you should’ve _known_ better.” 

 

“But I had to,” Leo says, huffing as he twists, pulling his shirt up to expose a bloody gash in one hip. “If I didn’t, Arashi was going to take him from me, and he had to know why he was dying, you know? Mika…he told me, you know, what kind of king am I going to be if I don’t fight for the people I love? You most of all?”

 

“You…are such an idiot,” Izumi mutters, though his voice is fond and his cheeks faintly flushed as he crouches down. Instead of setting his hands to the wound, he presses his lips directly to it, in spite of the blood. “Thank you,” he quietly says.

 

The pain fades, and Leo’s lower lip trembles. “I’m not—I wasn’t afraid he was going to kill me. That’s not why it took so long. And it—it’s _not_ because I don’t love you, it’s not! It never was!”

 

“I know.” Izumi rocks back onto his heels as the wound quickly closes, revealing nothing but smooth, soft skin instead. “Duty,” he softly says, “really sucks, and we’re both bound by it. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” 

 

“You deserve better.” Leo’s eyes sting, and he shakes his head furiously. “But I’m selfish, you know? So I’m not letting you go, even though you deserve better. You’re stuck with me.”

 

“It’s obnoxious for a king to say something like that,” Izumi says, forcing himself up to his feet. “How am I supposed to do better than that, huh?”

 

“Stupid Izumi! Stupid Kingsguard Captain! Stop trying to be better than your king!”

 

Izumi scowls, folding his arms across his chest. “Trying to be better? Maybe I _am_ settling. Arashi’s getting married.” He leans forward, eyebrows raised. “So I have no other options.” 

 

“Than to marry me?” Leo tilts his head to the side, then beams. “I accept! What a good proposal!”

 

Izumi’s mouth opens, then closes, and he grabs Leo by the shoulders again, firmly shaking him this time. “Don’t say things like that unless you _mean it_ ,” he lowly says. “Leo—you know I’d risk anything for you, but it’s something I’m not going to go into alone.” 

 

Leo sucks in a breath, then shakes his head, raking his hands back through his hair, ruffling it up. “Sorry. Got carried away. You don’t have to marry me, Sena. It’s enough that you’re so pretty and you’re _here_. Hey, maybe we should get away, there’s been a _murder_ here, after all!”

 

_I knew it. Too good to be true, stop thinking he actually wants this._ “Yeah—come on,” Izumi mutters, his heart clenching in his chest as he grabs Leo’s hand, yanking him away. “I need you to be somewhere _safe_.”

 

“Nowhere is _safe_ , this is the Sandlands,” Leo says cheerfully, following where Izumi leads him. “Did he like Boots? He did, right? He knew it was from me?”

 

“Who else could it’ve been from,” Izumi exhales, dragging Leo back the way that he came. The shouts and screams of guards ring in his ears, and he picks up the pace. “You need to go back to the Capital,” he lowly says. “I’m taking back one of the children that was found—you’re coming with me.” 

 

“Look, see, _kara_ , he’s fine!”

 

Izumi huffs out a breath at the sight of Arashi and Mika, lurking about, and with that horrific snog in Mika’s arms, spines still away, tongue snaking in and out slowly. “Mika—can you take us to your chambers? It’s a safer place to stash this idiot, I think.” 

 

“Probably th’ prince’s, actually,” Mika says, locking eyes with Leo as he slowly pets the snog. “Did y’kill him?” 

 

“Not fast enough or slow enough,” Leo says with a sighs. “But yeah. And then Izumi proposed, but took it back, so I dunno if we’re still getting married or not.”

 

“Stop stealing everything from me!” Arashi protests, pouting extremely. “First you steal my kill, then my proposal day?”

 

“You’re the one that took it back!” Izumi snaps, whirling on Leo. “I told you that it had to be for real, you just—ugh, forget it!”

 

Mika’s expression slides into something decidedly world-weary, and he turns around, dragging Cupcake with him. “I ain’t dealin’ with this.” 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“The fact that you two can’t even get proposed to right,” Mika exasperatedly says over his shoulder. “ _Kara_ , d’you gotta teach ‘em or somethin’?” 

 

“Mika said yes,” Arashi gloats, wrapping an arm around Mika, hauling him back. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

 

Leo rounds on Izumi, hands on his hips. “The right response to saying I’ll marry you isn’t to get flustered and ask what I mean! I was totally obvious! Stupid!”

 

“It’s absolutely a valid question when you’ve said you’d do it before, but what you _meant_ was everything but that!” Izumi hisses back, stepping closer and leaning over Leo with a scowl. “When I ask for you to marry me, I mean it for _real_. Publicly. So _everyone_ knows.” 

 

“Good!” Leo snarls, jabbing Izumi’s chest with a finger. “Because that’s how I meant it! And I started making wedding plans already! Check with my stupid lawyers, they’ve got the law changes going to my ministers tomorrow, _stupid Izumi!_ ”

 

Izumi stares at him, scowl still in place for a long moment before he lurches forward, grabs Leo’s waist, and shoves him firmly against the wall in a rough, possessive kiss.

 

“Maybe,” Mika dryly says, dangling from Arashi’s neck, “we should, uh. Go somewhere more private?” 

 

Arashi watches Leo and Izumi try to suck each others’ lungs out through their mouths, half-amused, half-confused. “I never know when they’re angry with each other or happy with each other,” he confesses. “Hey, lovebirds, come on, we’re going to get discovered out here, you know?”

 

Leo just flutters a dismissive hand, which then goes limp as he’s kissed roughly, leaving a Leo-shaped indent in the wall (or at least a spot where he’s rubbed off most of the dust and grit).

 

“Mystery,” Mika murmurs, watching, entranced. “Um. I’m glad you’re not like that, _kara_.” 

 

“Up,” Izumi mutters, grabbing Leo up by the waist and hoisting his feet off the ground to coax all four of those limbs around him. 

 

“Izumiiiin—“

 

“So I can carry him off to somewhere safer,” Izumi growls, scooping Leo up a bit more to let him drape partially over his shoulder. “Obviously.” 

 

Mika’s eyes roll firmly, and he grabs at Arashi’s hand, gently tugging. “Rei didn’t tell me all of his plans, but I know some of ‘em, and you guys know some of ‘em too, right?” he presses. “Let’s compare an’ contrast. I ain’t ready to leave yet, we got too much to do. Right, Majesty?” 

 

Leo thumps Izumi’s back, displeased. “Carry me properly! Either in your arms or on your back, I’m not potatoes! Your king is not potatoes!”

 

“Bring those noisy potatoes,” Arashi says, following at Mika’s heels, squeezing his hand. “Oh, hell, we should just all take a honeymoon together.”

 

“Fun,” Mika immediately decides, guiding the way around the hustle and bustle of the palace, taking the shortest route. “But Izumin might get weird.”

 

“No, you’re the weird one,” Izumi matter-of-factly says, giving Leo’s ass a sharp slap. “Stop squirming, Your Majesty.” 

 

Leo huffs, then subsides, reaching down and giving Izumi’s ass a firm squeeze, then another one. “Never mind, this position has its merits. Hey, Mika! Do you like the present?”

 

“Yeah.” Mika pulls aside the thin curtains leading directly into the prince’s quarters—empty, as per usual, and much safer than anywhere else he can think of right now. “I renamed him, though. Boots is a bad name.”

 

Izumi rolls his eyes, throwing Leo down onto the bed. “Told you it was a bad name,” he grunts, following after Leo in short order, unbuckling his sword before he pounces and pins him in another kiss.

 

Mika heaves a sigh, looking up at Arashi. “They’re dumb,” he says. 

 

“You get quarters like this as a prostitute?” Arashi asks, amazed as he looks around. “Wow, _nice_ , I’m in the wrong career path.”

 

“Boots is a great name,” Leo gasps, wrapping his legs around Izumi, yanking him down with weirdly prehensile strength. “Very manly, he can grow into it—Izumi, _please_ —“

 

“Technically, it’s the prince’s,” Mika says, flopping down onto a chaise lounge, since the bed is being occupied. Cupcake, formally known as Boots, follows behind, circling three times before settling at his feet. “But I basically moved in here ‘cause it was safer, and a lot more convincing that we’re sleepin’ together. I renamed him Cupcake,” he tosses over to deaf ears. 

 

Izumi silences Leo with another kiss, sucking on his tongue as he shoves up Leo’s tunic, fingers immediately pinching at his nipples when he settles down between those lean thighs. 

 

“Oh, come on, don’t do it right _now_ ,” Arashi complains. He tugs Mika down onto his lap, arms around his waist from behind, nuzzling into his hair. “You still want to be mine, _amaka_? Even if I was a brute about today?”

 

Leo arches back, gasping, hands tangled in Izumi’s hair, urging his mouth down, down, _down_.

 

“Y’know they ain’t gonna stop once they start,” Mika wearily says, even as he settles comfortably into Arashi’s lap, curling his arms around his neck. “You were a gross brute,” he bluntly says. “And I’m mad at you, ‘cause I was right.”

 

Izumi kisses his way down Leo’s stomach, sucking on the jut of a hip as his fingers fumble with his laces. He yanks those trousers off, leaving them tossed over one shoulder before his tongue licks a wet, hot stripe down the length of Leo’s cock. 

 

Leo cries out, as if they’re in the safest place in the country instead of the most dangerous, wrapping his thighs around Izumi’s head, his own head thunking back against the pillow, nails raking up Izumi’s scalp. “I’ll die if you don’t,” he groans, feeling as if he’ll float away, grounded only by Izumi’s mouth on his dick. 

 

“You _were_ right,” Arashi says with a sigh, “but only because the king is better than he should be, not because it was the right thing to do. You…you’re probably going to hate a lot of the things I do, you know, love? Because I’m a soldier, and you’re so, so much better than that.”

 

Izumi’s mouth hastily closes around the head of Leo’s cock, licking and sucking before he swallows him further down. He grabs at Leo’s thighs, letting them rest atop his shoulders as he eagerly drags his tongue down, groaning in the back of his throat as the all-too familiar taste of Leo swells over his tongue. 

 

“I always hate th’ stuff you do,” Mika bluntly says, staring up at him. “But it ain’t ‘cause I’m better. It’s ‘cause I’m worried ‘bout you all th’ time an’ that ain’t gonna change, married or not. Got it?” He pauses, craning his neck to spare a glance over at the bed, unable to help himself.

 

“…Maybe we should talk about this later,” Arashi murmurs, pressing a long, wet kiss to Mika’s neck, his own eyes on the others. “You wanna play with them? Or have you been played with enough down here, the way you look, I’m surprised you can walk in a straight line…”

 

“No one touches me down here,” Mika groans, his head falling back automatically as Arashi’s mouth presses to his skin. “’s bullshit, I’m horny an’ I’m _good_ at bein’ a whore but no one even gives a daaamn…” It’s probably a bad idea to be focusing on _this_ right now, when he should absolutely be insisting that they focus on other things, but—he’s never exactly been one to be the voice of reason.

 

“Get your skirts up, then, love.” Arashi hoists Mika up farther onto his lap, then drops one hand to adjust himself, loosening his laces. “Show me how you’ll take care of your man, when we’re married, hmm?”

 

Leo cries out, and floods Izumi’s mouth, spasming so hard that he lurches up, thighs tight about Izumi’s head, spending down his throat so hard he blacks out for a moment.

 

“Noisy,” Mika mutters, rolling his eyes as he eagerly readjusts, his mouth hot against Arashi’s neck as he sucks on the lobe of his ear. “It’s so _hot_ when y’talk like that,” he breathes, yanking up the gauzy layers of clothing, and plucking out a little bottle of oil from a hidden pocket. “ _Kara_ , I’ve missed you…”

 

Izumi draws back when Leo’s thighs finally release his head, swallowing noisily, though the taste still remains on his tongue. It’s Leo, very distinctly Leo, but—also, distinctly not, strangely bright and somehow familiar. “You…taste different,” he murmurs, wiping his mouth as he contemplates this, flushed and sweaty and with his hair thoroughly mussed. “Like…hmm.” 

 

Leo grins lazily, pulling back and petting Izumi’s hair, fingertips gently massaging at the base of his neck. “You just haven’t tasted me enough,” he decides. “Not recently, did you just rinse with mint?”

 

“Missed you, too,” Arashi whispers, leaning back on his elbows. “Go on. Show me, yeah? I want to see what makes you the best whore in the Sandlands, since I’m buying you forever.”

 

“Don’t think so,” Izumi mutters, running his tongue over his lower lip before he gives up trying to figure it out, and slides up to mouth a warm, wet kiss to Leo’s throat. “Is it favoritism for me to stay the Captain of the Kingsguard after we’re married?” he murmurs. “Or do you even give a fuck?” 

 

“If y’say it like that…I’m gonna come before you’re even in me,” Mika huffs, his face flushed hot as he tips the oil over into his palm, then reaches back to wrap it around Arashi’s cock, slicking him thoroughly with a long stroke. It’s as much waiting as he can handle, when he feels Arashi in the palm of his hand, and he arches back, pulling that thick length to his hole and sinking back onto it with a long, breathy groan. 

 

“I genuinely don’t,” Leo says happily. “And even if I removed you, you could always re-add yourself, since you’ll be my co-consort. Equal standing with me, isn’t that cool? Nnh, I’m horny even now, put it in me.”

 

Arashi squeezes Mika’s hips, eyes dark with pleasure. “I can see why you’re so expensive,” he breathes. “I’d pay ten times your weight in gold, lay you down on the bed and let each piece clink down around you, any time you do something I love you can have another—ahh, _amaka_ , you’re so tight—“

 

“‘cause you…haven’t been here,” Mika pants out, gripping Arashi’s shoulders as he rocks down against him, sinking down until Arashi’s buried entirely inside, and his entire body clenches down, protesting and savoring it all at once. His head tips back as he pants, hair dripping down his back, jewelry quietly clinking together as he moves. “ _Karaaaa…_ nhhh, why weren’t you here—t’ fuck me like this, huh?” 

 

_Do we have time for this_ and _obviously I’m going to put it in you_ wage a very brief war in Izumi’s mind, and he shrugs, sitting back to unlace his breeches. “Arashi, toss some of that oil this way,” he breathes. “Our king is needy.” 

 

Arashi tosses the oil, shifting to part Mika’s legs further, looking over his shoulder at Izumi. “Look how pretty he is, Izumi,” he says, eyes flicking back to Mika’s face. “Do you think I got a good deal? He cost me a king’s ransom, but his hole is so lovely…”

 

“I don’t want a ransom,” Leo groans, attempting to climb onto Izumi’s cock before Izumi even gets his breeches off, grabbing the oil and quickly shoving a finger into his ass. “I just want _you_ , I want to consummate!”

 

“We’re not even married yet, you idiot,” Izumi breathlessly laughs, shoving Leo back down with a hand on his chest. “You _do_ know proposing and marrying are two different things, right?”

 

Mika growls lowly, and lurches forward in Arashi’s lap to bite at his throat, hungry and overeager. “ _Kara_ ,” he whines, squirming down, panting as his own cock twitches between his legs, achingly hard. “You ain’t gonna throw me around? After so long? I want y’to break me in haaalf…”

 

“Whiny,” Izumi tosses over, amused, as he steals the bottle of oil to pour it over his own hand. “Your Majesty…you’re being a brat, turn over and let me fuck you senseless.” 

 

Leo makes a happy little squeak in his throat, then flips over, spreading his thighs so far apart that his cock rubs against the bed, ass arching up so his spine is a sharp curve. “Senseless, that’s the promise, right? No thoughts, just sex, right? Just you in me?”

 

The muscles in Arashi’s arms tense suddenly and he lifts Mika off his cock, throwing him down on the bed next to Leo, on his back with his legs spread. “My pretty whore likes to be treated kind of rough?” he teases, sliding in deep again with one single heady thrust, filling him hard. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll give you something money can’t buy. Are you nice and full now?”

 

Mika stifles a shriek behind one hand, his eyes rolling back into his head as his back arches. Legs trembling, toes curling, he clings to Arashi’s waist with his thighs, bent in two and trying not to squeak and moan every single time Arashi moves within him. “ _Karaaaa…god_ , fuck me, fuck me, you’re…s….so… _good_ at thaaaat…” 

 

Mika moaning in his ear is distracting, but it just serves to make Izumi’s own cock harder. He tips the oil over the cleft of Leo’s ass, dragging his fingers down it before guiding his cock to that hole, letting it sink in deep. “Just sex,” Izumi lowly promises, bending forward to kiss the back of Leo’s shoulder. “Sounds good after all this, doesn’t it.” 

 

Arashi nudges Izumi’s shoulder, leaning over for a kiss of his own. “Look how cute they are,” he murmurs, eyes dancing when he slides in deep, stirring Mika up inside, hands tight on his hips. “Can’t believe I—sent you off to be a whore, and you—came back to me tighter than ever, _ah_ —“

 

Leo writhes, biting hard into his pillow, tense and trembling as his body yields, accepting Izumi in deep without complaint, thighs twitching and stretched out wide. “S-sounds real good,” he slurs, shoving his face against the pillow, his whole body slowly spasming in pleasure as Izumi finally slides into where he belongs.

 

Izumi’s attention turns hyper-focused as he sucks on the side of Leo’s neck, his hands bracing against the bed as he bends over him, panting into the mess of his hair as his cock sinks in deep. It feels _different_ than the last time they were together, somehow—far less…forced, with nothing in the way for either of them, and that makes him grabby, eager, overly enthusiastic while his teeth nip into Leo’s shoulder. 

 

Mika grabs at Arashi’s hair, pulling him down for a long, hot kiss to muffle the sounds welling up from his own throat as he rocks into every thrust, a panting, shivering mess when Arashi’s cock sinks in so deep that it makes his chest heave. His thighs shake, and his nails sink into the back of Arashi’s neck. “Don’t…nhh…use that as an excuse…to leave me again—fuck—“ The curse at the end is less because of Arashi fucking him, and more because he can hear (and feel) someone outside of the door. 

 

“…not a bad person, but the rest of them, I don’t know how much hope I have for them to—“

 

Adonis falls silent as he opens the door, eyes sweeping over the four figures writhing on the bed. He swallows hard, looking between the bed and Rei, standing at his side. 

 

A sudden shiver wracks Leo’s body, electric, feeling like a shot of ice up the spine, and he lets out a cry, eyes wide and startled as he convulses under Rei’s stare.

 

“…Well.” Rei’s eyebrows climb as he steps inside, tugging the door shut behind himself and Adonis. “Don’t stop on my behalf, this is a flashback to my youth. Adonis,” he says, switching back to Sandtongue, “shall we step out into the courtyard? Let these idiots finish up.” 

 

Izumi slowly pulls back, tucking himself back into his breeches and yanking a blanket up and over Leo before he simply grabs his sword, saying nothing, and draws it in one fluid movement before lunging at Rei.

 

“Whoa— _kara_ , get him,” Mika hastily snaps, lurching up and forward to grab at Izumi’s ankle.“Izumin, don’t you dare!” 

 

Arashi tries, but his foot tangles in the sheets, costing him valuable seconds as he struggles with the linen. He shouts, hand thrown out, but it misses Izumi by bare inches.

 

White light flickers, not as bright as a spell, but noticeable to anyone with a hint of sensitivity. A hand shoots out, and Kaoru materializes from behind a notice-me-not veil, face set in steel as he catches Izumi’s wrist with an iron grip. “Careful, easy there, friend,” he says easily, expression not changing. “You could put someone’s eye out with that thing.”

 

Izumi hisses through his teeth, his eyes slitted as he tries to lunge against that hold in spite of his common sense telling him not to. “Let me go,” he lowly says. “Or I’ll fucking kill you, too.” 

 

“Izumin, stop it,” Mika groans, flopping down with a pillow swiftly yanked over his face. “You can’t kill Rei.”

 

“You did something to him,” Izumi flatly says, directing those words to Rei, who remains unmoved, obviously all of his trust placed in the fact that Kaoru _will_ stop Izumi from as much as touching him. “Tell me. Tell me what you did!” 

 

“The fact you can sense that is really interesting,” Rei says, unfazed, and he steps sideways, around the clash of Kaoru and Izumi. “Adonis, shall we continue this outside?” 

 

“Frostling?” Kaoru asks, more curious than disturbed, slowly unwinding a silver beaded bracelet from one hand, flicking it between his fingers in a practiced motion. “I didn’t really notice when we were traveling, but you didn’t let it out then, did you?” A flick of his fingers, and he brings the bracelet to bear against the sword, more of that white light flaring.

 

Leo sits up fast, clutching the sheets to his chest. “Captain! Stand down!” His voice crackles with all the authority of being king, but his eyes are worried.

 

Izumi recoils, yanking his sword back as he takes a step backwards. It’s as much because of that strange, white light as Leo’s words, and even though his sword lowers, his eyes remain trained on Kaoru—and behind him, Rei—bright blue, pupils slitted. “What I am,” he stiffly says, “is none of your business.”

 

“I believe the polite term,” Rei lowly says into Kaoru’s ear, “is Icebred, love. Sena, I assure you I did nothing but assist and protect the king. I’m sure he’d be happy to share with you the details.”

 

Kaoru sighs. “You people have so many fancy words these days, how is an old man like me supposed to keep up?” He twitches his fingers, and the bracelet coils back around his wrist, staying in place as if each of the beads is a magnet—which, of course, in a way, each of them are. “Sorry, Icebred. But Rei, if you start calling the Inglings _Darkbred_ , we’re going to need to have a talk.”

 

“Disgusting, they’re just Inglings,” Rei snorts, fluttering a hand. “Anyway, sorry to interrupt all of you, I was just looking for a private place to speak with Adonis.” 

 

Izumi remains unmoving, fingers curled about his sheathed sword. “…Get dressed, Your Majesty,” he quietly says. “I’ll escort you out of here.” 

 

“Izumin, you’re bein’ unreasona—“

 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Izumi stoops, tossing Leo his trousers.

 

Leo moves quietly, yanking on trousers and shirt, still feeling oddly shaken by Rei’s appearance and the flare of weird magic moving through him. 

 

Arashi follows, dressing quickly, tugging Mika’s weird skirts and robes down over his legs. “Izumi, what are you _doing_?” he hisses, wrapping his arms around Mika as if Rei and Adonis had specifically shown up to take Mika away from him. “You’re acting crazy, that’s the Demon King!”

 

“He did something,” Izumi hisses right back, keeping one eye on Rei as he speaks to Arashi. “I can feel it. I—I can’t describe it, but I can _tell_ he did something to Leo.”

 

“You’re being so dumb,” Mika mumbles, batting Arashi away to straighten his clothing himself. “He ain’t done nothin’ he didn’t need to do. Lemme go, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 

“He helped me,” Leo says quietly, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “With the bond. That’s why it’s...don’t you feel how much better it is now, between us? Because of what he did?”

 

Izumi’s eyes flick entirely back to Rei, and his fingers drum slowly against the hilt of his sword. “Explain.”

 

“I muted the remains of the bond he had, just as His Majesty says,” Rei says, unfazed by the lingering threat of Izumi with a sword. “I promise you, it was nothing but an attempt to help him. It’s still fresh, though, which probably explains his reaction.” He bows his head to Leo apologetically. “With time, that should dull a bit. I hope it hasn’t been too unpleasant, Your Majesty.” 

 

Kaoru’s eyes flick to Rei. That’s _not_ an adequate description of what he’d done, not in the slightest, but seeing how Izumi reacts to even that…

 

“Totally fine,” Leo says, then frowns, voice falling a little. “It was weird when you came in, though, like I got sprayed with icy water. Is it supposed to be like that?”

 

Kaoru’s eyes flash, not moving from Rei. _A thrall incurring its master’s proprietary displeasure_ , he knows at once, with a sinking heart. Doubtless Rei hadn’t known, hadn’t intended, and it had been an unconscious reaction…but was that even worse?

 

“It’s probably just…turned up a bit high because I just fed,” Rei reassures Leo, though hearing that from Leo makes his brow furrow, and he sweeps forward, reaching out a hand towards him. “Here, let me play with it a—“

 

“Don’t touch him,” Izumi lowly snaps, sweeping in front of Rei’s hand to block his touch entirely. 

 

“I can’t fix it,” Rei calmly says, not dropping his hand, “unless you let me lay hands on him. Or, we let the king decide, as is his right.” 

 

Izumi’s mouth twists, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword. “I don’t like this,” he tersely says, glancing back at Leo over his shoulder. 

 

“Izumi,” Leo says gently, reaching over to give his arm a squeeze, “you don’t like it, but you don’t know anything about it, right? So whose opinion do you think I should listen to?”

 

Izumi twitches underneath the touch, a full-body shudder that he struggles to suppress. That, unfortunately, he blames on being interrupted at the worst possible time, and how he simply can’t _settle_ now. “…Fine,” he softly says, moodily stepping aside. “You obviously trust him.”

 

“He helped me,” Leo says simply. “He helped me be me again, and not always thinking about…” The storm of cloudy emotions rages across his face, and for a moment, he looks entirely lost, the way he had before Rei’s tampering.

 

“Don’t worry, Sir Sena,” Kaoru chimes in with a little bow. “Stopping demons from working unwelcome spells on humans is my entire job description. Even a Demon King couldn’t defy me if I wanted to stop him, and he won’t be able to hide what he does from me.”

 

Arashi blinks up. “Wait, who’s this?”

 

“Lord Hakaze of High Harbor,” Rei simply provides as he steps past Izumi to rest his hands upon either side of Leo’s face, tipping his head up in his palms as he tries to narrow the flow of his own magic wrapped about Leo. “He’s a paladin. How’s that, Your Majesty? Any better?” 

 

Leo sighs in relief, toes wiggling as he sags back onto the bed. “Far better, thank you, Rei. Hey, you’re a real paladin? Like, the Holy White Order? Like in the books?”

 

Arashi groans. “You haven’t been reading Captain Morisawa’s books, have you? Izumi, you can’t let him get into those, we won’t ever sleep.”

 

“Kaoru is _delightfully_ fancy,” Rei hums, neither confirming or denying Leo’s assumptions as he releases him with a pat on the head. “Aren’t you, love?” 

 

“He reads them on his own,” Izumi sourly mutters, his eyes still tracking Rei, suspicious and not bothering to hide it. 

 

“I can’t believe not a single one of y’all apologized for interruptin’ us,” Mika crossly pipes up. “I ain’t leavin’, y’know, if that’s what you’ve been tryin’ to convince the prince about.”

 

“Where’s Shu, anyway?” Arashi asks, looking around as if he’s going to materialize behind them, pulling Mika closer onto his lap. “You said he was staying with you, right, _amaka_?”

 

“Staying?” Leo asks, frowning as he looks from one to the other. “No, no, we came down here to get you _out_ , it’s time for everyone to leave. Right, Rei?”

 

“Shu is continuing to stay under cover for the moment while I was speaking with Adonis—but alas, it seems as though my plans to chat with him privately were cut short,” Rei dryly says. “My plans do include sending both Mika and Shu home, yes—please do not tell me Mika has already begun arguing otherwise to you, too, Sir Arashi.”

 

“I didn’t even get a chance ‘cause th’ king was off killin’ people,” Mika grumbles as he buries himself against Arashi’s chest. “I don’t wanna go home. Not yet. I’m not _done_ here, we already talked about this!”

 

“We’re discussing it again, then,” Rei firmly says. “It’s not safe here. It won’t be. What I _need_ is for you to all agree to take Mika, Shu, and the king at _least_ away from this palace, preferably entirely out of the city.”

 

“Eh? Not done?” Arashi tilts his head to the side. “What else do you want to do here?”

 

“Time’s wasting,” Leo says brusquely, standing form the bed as if he hadn’t spent the last several minutes having a delightful amount of sex. “Let’s get clear. Rei, your plan is still the same as it was last time we spoke? Izumi, you’ll be a guard for the caravan of people headed away. Lord Hakaze, you as well, if you are what you say you are, they’ll need your skills. Arashi, if Mika won’t go, pick him up and carry him. I’d like to be reuniting terrified little children with their wealthy and influential parents tomorrow at the latest, all right?”

 

“My plan is absolutely the same as it was,” Rei confirms, folding his arms across his chest. “Instead of Kaoru, you can have Captain Morisawa. I need Kaoru’s particular form of expertise with me. Otherwise, I have no complaints.”

 

“No—Adonis isn’t good with the kids like I am, you talked to Master, you _promised_ _—“_

 

“I didn’t promise anything,” Rei interrupts, much to Mika’s obvious displeasure. “I _said_ I’d consider it. I need you all out of this city. That’s what I’ve decided, and so has the king, and you’ll abide by that.” 

 

“ _Amaka_ ,” Arashi says softly, stroking Mika’s hair, “what more can you do? The rest of the plan, it’s not the kind of thing you want to be here for. Has Rei ever led you wrong? He never tells too much, but it always turns out well in the end, right? Remember last time, with the Academy?” He’s not above doing exactly as Leo had said and tossing Mika over his shoulder, though.

 

“Does the plan need someone who is good with kids?” Adonis asks, breaking his silence with a worried little frown. “I’m not supposed to be that person, right?”

 

“You don’t need to be that person,” Rei hastens to reassure him. “The children will be dealt with accordingly—I just need you to stay safe, and away from the rest of your family while we handle them.” 

 

“He could use more people that can speak both Sandtongue and common, if nothin’ else,” Mika mumbles unhappily, lacing his hands around Arashi’s neck. “What if y’need more wizards?”

 

“I have Kanata with me as well, and Kaoru serves the purpose of translator as needed—but trust me, there will be less talking, and more fighting, which _you_ need to stay out of,” Rei says firmly. “When it’s done, you can come back, if that’s what you want.” 

 

Arashi, the veteran of a thousand battles and multiple wars, visibly pales. “You remember the last time you let those…ghosties…out? In this city? I do.”

 

“I’m better at controllin’ ‘em now,” Mika sulkily says. “I can help.”

 

“You’ll be much more helpful outside of the city. I’m not arguing about it any longer,” Rei continues as Mika opens his mouth to complain again. “No one here thinks we need a necromancer in the mix. That’s not an insult, that’s a fact.” 

 

Mika’s hands clench into his palms, and he slithers his way abruptly out of Arashi’s lap. “I’m gonna go wake th’ kids up,” he mutters, and stalks out of the room, brushing past Rei and Adonis on his way. 

 

Rei heaves a sigh, offering Arashi a weary shrug. “Take him out of here, and do not let him out of your sight once you do. It’s not just his abilities that I don’t want running amuck; his mother is directly involved, and I’m afraid of his reaction if he has to see her. Understood?” 

 

Arashi nods shortly, and stands, fastening his swordbelt over tunic and leggings, then shrugging into his official coat and boots. “Why does he want to stay?” he demands, adjusting the tie in his hair. “I’d thought he’d be snarling to go home, but he’s clawing at the ground to stay.”

 

“He has a strong sense of honor,” Adonis says quietly. “And he is protective over those children. I respect him.”

 

“But the kids won’t be in danger, right?” Arashi asks, looking confused. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

 

“Every effort will be made to save every single innocent,” Rei softly says. “But in war, there can be casualties. You should know that well. Mika doesn’t like it—I can’t blame him, but him being here will only increase the death toll.”

 

Arashi grimaces. “War…it’s different in the West. More often than not, we choose our own field of battle, far from any homes and families. And we knew who the enemy was, and they don’t…look like us.”

 

“Maybe it would be better if you told him that in those words,” Rei says, “because he refuses to listen to what I’m telling him, and I’m afraid he’s going to get himself—and Shu—killed.” 

 

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t stay,” Izumi mutters, scooping up Leo’s cloak from the floor and throwing it over his own shoulder to carry it for him. “Shu, either. C’mon, Arashi; let’s deal with this. Adonis, was it? Show us where Mika would’ve run off to.” 

 

“This way.” 

 

The second the door closes behind them, Kaoru leans against it, one eyebrow raised. “This is, ah, pretty rough, hmm? Not exactly the way you thought it would be. You think it’ll work?”

 

“Be more specific,” Rei wearily says, raking a hand back through his hair. “My plans in general, my involvement with the king, my attempts to keep both my mate and his second intact…” 

 

“All?” Kaoru suggests. “But mostly, the plan to get everyone nonessential out of the city before it all goes boom. How powerful is the weird pretty necromancer? Could I take him out if I had to?”

 

“No. You’d be dead a few seconds after his casting.” 

 

Kaoru snorts in disbelief. “Be serious. He’s not even a Nightcloak, you think so little of me?”

 

“He’s not a Nightcloak because he can’t handle being in the public eye, so for his safety, and everyone else’s, he’s a Nooncloak. But you can go do a reading on him, and tell me what you think, if you don’t believe me.”

 

“You mean to tell me,” Kaoru says slowly, “that you have a Nightcloak-level necromancer running around with just an _honor-seal_ on him? Forget the Sandlands, are you trying to end the Eastern half of the _world_?”

 

Rei spreads his hands helplessly. “Believe it or not, this was not my decision. He’s Shu’s charge, and this was agreed upon by the previous Emperor. I’ve never seen any reason to question it. Shu has him very much under his control.”

 

Kaoru shakes his head in disbelief. “You’ve changed, you know. You never used to play with things this dangerous. I really hope his ass is worth it.”

 

“Wrong. I was in bed with you, my natural enemy.” Rei smiles, leaning in close to him. “His ass _is_ worth it, but so is yours.”

 

“But he’s a lot more dangerous than me,” Kaoru protests. “I’m a purring little pacifist next to a necromancer. Are we still trying to pull this thing off at sunset? We’ve only got an hour or two left.”

 

“Maybe if you’d stop distracting me by being the way you are, I’d be moving faster.” Rei sighs, leaning away with a nod. “You’re right. Let’s push to get this over and done with, and then I get to say that I was right all along again.” 


	50. Chapter 50

In the Shadowlands, time is something of a mystery.

 

When Izumi wakes, he can’t tell if it’s day or night. The strangely colored sky outside makes it readily apparent that it’s… _something_. Ritsu could probably name the time based on the color. 

 

Izumi, for his part, is just _hungry_. 

 

Dealing with the wretch that is Bitch for a day and a half left him exhausted, and he has absolutely no idea how long he’s slept. Sitting up slowly in Ritsu’s massive bed, Izumi groggily shucks off the fur blanket—made of some animal’s pelt that he _cannot_ name, disturbing—and stares bleary-eyed about the room, frowning. 

 

They’re doing it again. He can tell. 

 

Pinching the pad of his hand like Ritsu had instructed does little. Izumi blinks a few times, wishing that would banish the way his eyes like to slit and hyperfocus in dim light, but it doesn’t do a damned thing. He groans and flops back down, decidedly unhappy. Maybe he really is turning into the demon beast half the Capital thinks he is; maybe that’s more suitable than what he was before in their eyes, at least.

 

“You’re letting the snake win.”

 

Ritsu’s voice is amused, and he leans against the wall of Izumi’s room, which buckles and softens to accommodate him, as if he’s sitting without getting horizontal. “You haven’t figured out which you’re gonna do yet, so he’s taking advantage. You hungry, or is it just too dark?”

 

“…Maybe both,” Izumi admits, his frown deepening as he peers at Ritsu, annoyed that he can see him so clearly even in the dim light. “I don’t like this. This wasn’t a problem until now. Not—not like this, at any rate.” 

 

“You’re getting older.” Ritsu reaches over, ruffling Izumi’s hair in a paternal gesture. “The snake in you is basically a baby. He’s hungry, not you.”

 

Izumi hisses, swatting Ritsu’s hand away. “How is it basically a baby? That doesn’t make sense—it’s not like that part of me is a separate person.” 

 

“Mmm, it is, though.” Ritsu stretches, yawning deeply and relaxing back into the wall. “Kind of. It’s like your subconscious knows it’s about to be able to do more stuff. I dunno, all the half-bloods I know talk about it like it’s a separate person. My Demon is a dick.”

 

“Do more stuff,” Izumi echoes, deadpan, rolling onto his side and propping his chin in one hand. “I can already bring people back from the brink of death. I don’t need anymore weird powers, I’m good, thanks. You get back over here. Don’t pat my head like that, curl up with me properly.” 

 

Ritsu gestures with one finger, then lets the wall gently nudge him forward, onto the bed where he wraps an arm around Izumi’s waist. “Not all half-drakes can heal like you, you know. You’re a hell of a strong one.”

 

“Am I?” Izumi stretches out, throwing an arm around Ritsu in turn, plus a leg to make sure he doesn’t escape. “Every legend I’ve ever heard is about how even half-blooded drakes can heal like crazy.” 

 

Ritsu snorts. “Those legends were written by superstitious old wives. If a drake could even stop someone with a gut wound from dying, they’d call it a miracle. Not like you. Mm, you smell good. You’re my popsicle.”

 

“No one’s ever mentioned that to me before,” Izumi suspiciously says, curling his fingers against Ritsu’s back. “I thought all drakes could heal people. Isn’t that why we like them instead of hunt them like vermin?” 

 

“Well, _yeah_.” Ritsu raises an eyebrow, then slides a fingertip very deliberately down Izumi’s spine. “We’re talking about the North here. No real healers, no real money, no magic because the Capital takes everything. Finding out one of your regiment is part drake means that your friend who got savaged by an Icewolf is probably going to survive instead of probably going to die. They were basically worshipped back then. And if the odd girl gets a swollen belly in the middle of winter when all the men are away in a war party…small price to pay, right?” With that, a fingernail traces down even farther, poking directly at Izumi’s hole.

 

Izumi squeaks and arches, his teeth snapping against Ritsu’s shoulder with a low, rumbling growl. “Be nice. I’m _hungry_ ,” he lowly warns, eyes glittering in the dim light. “You don’t have to tell me how it is in the north. I’m just…surprised. Everyone acts like what I do is so…normal? I guess.” 

 

“Want to know something about humans?” Ritsu’s eyes gleam, reflecting red in the darkness, his fingers digging into Izumi’s ass. “They’ll accept just about anything, as long as _you_ act like it’s normal…and it’s beneficial to them. They welcomed an archdemon into their midst for centuries, didn’t they? Because he helped them beat back the Inglings, and acted nice. They didn’t look too closely. They let my dumb _brother_ be a wizard, even though he’s a Cambion, because he’s pretty and he protects them. If it’s good, it must be fine, right?”

 

“Don’t humans… _check_ these kinds of things?” Izumi groans, his head thunking forward against Ritsu’s shoulder. “They should. It’s not…it doesn’t seem like it’s _that_ common for half-bloods, or weird creatures, to be floating around, especially as wizards…” He squirms closer, nuzzling up underneath Ritsu’s chin. “I thought you and Rei were the exception, rather than the rule,” he murmurs.

 

“Sure, we are,” Ritsu agrees, letting his hands turn more gentle, rather than digging in deeper, petting up and down Izumi’s back. “Because most of us don’t live long enough to bloom. Anyway, you want something to eat? From me, or real food?”

 

“Shu said most wizards bloom before they’re sixteen, and I thought half-bloods were notoriously long lived,” Izumi grumbles, settling beneath Ritsu’s petting, his breath escaping slow and even. “Shouldn’t you be blooming when you’re forty or something? Are you going to try and feed me raw meat again?” 

 

“I dunno, did you develop a craving for it yet?” Ritsu teases, ignoring the rest of the question. That’s a whole other thing to go into, and it…it _might_ not happen. “Hey, if you stay up here long enough, you’ll see how much stronger it makes you. You should.”

 

“Being in the Shadowlands _does_ make me feel weird,” Izumi murmurs, his eyes lidding as his fingers trail slowly down the back of Ritsu’s neck. “But I can’t stay. I don’t even know how much time has passed, but I _know_ it’s too long. And no—I don’t want raw meat. You’re tasty, though.”

 

“Then eat.” Ritsu’s teeth flash, and he turns his face, exposing his neck. “Can your teeth do it properly yet? Heh, my favorite popsicle is eating me, that’s interesting…”

 

Izumi hesitates, frowning. His tongue runs over his own teeth, contemplative, but he shakes his head, leaning away. “Too weird,” he mutters. “I’m half human, you know.” 

 

“So am I. So’s Rei. Why focus on the boring half?”

 

“Humans aren’t boring. All of you are just too strange.” Izumi’s eyebrows raise. “Did you just defend your brother?” 

 

Ritsu’s lips part in a hiss, and he pinches Izumi’s ass viciously. “I didn’t. Asshole. No. No, I didn’t. ‘Not-boring’ isn’t the same thing as good.”

 

Izumi growls, and bites this time when he lurches forward, teeth clamping down onto Ritsu’s throat. It doesn’t _do_ anything—he can’t break the skin, even when he chomps down and chews grumpily. “Are they supposed to get sharper?” he mutters, pulling back and poking at one of his teeth that he swears are normal, though Ritsu has called them fangs previously. “They do shit right now. What’s the point if drakes eat via sex, anyway?” 

 

“Uhhh…” Ritsu thinks, then shrugs. “I swear I got bitten by a drake once. Maybe I remembered wrong. Whatever, eat me in your own special way.”

 

“You’re not _that_ old,” Izumi flatly says, even as he slides a hand immediately down, thumbing along the bone of Ritsu’s hip. “I mean, I like older men, but…”

 

“But nothing,” Ritsu groans, wrapping his legs around Izumi, rolling them over so he sits atop Izumi’s thighs. “You want to feast on me? Or the other way around? What does your drake side want, mm?”

 

“D-don’t…ask that kind of question, it makes it…weird…” Izumi groans, his eyes fluttering as his hands wrap around Ritsu’s hips, squeezing slowly. His own back arches, his already hard cock slides up against the cleft of Ritsu’s ass. “A-and I get way too hard, damn it…” 

 

“Oh, yeah.” Ritsu grins, and undulates his spine, rocking down sensuously against Izumi’s cock. “Sounds like he wants…to come out and play. I bet if I turn up the cold in here, he’ll play with me…”

 

“Fuck you,” Izumi breathes, his nails biting into Ritsu’s skin as he moves. His cock twitches, dripping as it slides against Ritsu’s skin, shivering at the softness of it. “Bite me…and I’ll think about it.” 

 

Ritsu never needs more than one invitation. He strikes faster than any snake, fangs sinking deep into Izumi’s neck, a pleased rumble coming from his chest when he drinks deep. He’s being _nice_ , because he likes Izumi, and carefully doesn’t even mess up on purpose. Cool blood fills his mouth, venom releasing into Izumi’s bloodstream as Ritsu swallows eagerly. “Favorite popsicle,” he murmurs, eyes heavy-lidded.

 

Izumi arches with an open-mouthed gasp, his eyes fluttering shut as his fingers claw at Ritsu’s back, holding him close as he drinks. The rush of Ritsu’s biting him is secondary only to the aching stir of _need_ deep in his belly, and Izumi rolls them with a breathy huff of effort, neck still bared to Ritsu’s fangs even as he wriggles between those soft thighs. “You’re right,” he pants, the waves of his hair dripping over his shoulders and onto Ritsu’s chest. “I want to eat you, too.” 

 

“You want to slurp?” Ritsu asks, amused, letting Izumi spread his thighs like butter. “Here, have a taste, lovely drake mine…”

 

He slashes a sharpened nail across the inside of his forearm, opening a deep cut, pressing it to Izumi’s mouth. “Try it. Might change you a little.”

 

Izumi acts, doesn’t think, just bites down before he can stop himself, greedily sucking and swallowing as he clutches at Ritsu’s arm. The taste is _odd_ —bright and coppery and rich on his tongue, and it makes him tremble down to his toes as he swallows gulp after gulp, sating a hunger he wasn’t able to put a name to. 

 

“S…sorry—“ he rasps when he forces himself to draw back, his lips stained, cheeks flushed. “That…was a lot…nnhh, Ritsu…you taste good…” 

 

The wound closes with a flick of Izumi’s tongue, and Ritsu’s eyes flash suddenly brighter, and his clothes fall away like so many shadows. “Get in me,” he urges, voice a low growl. “You’re…you’ve got me in you, isn’t that nice? He’s _hungry_ , don’t you—feel it—“

 

_Don’t encourage this, stop it!_ Izumi wants to say, but he still can’t think straight, not with Ritsu’s blood thrumming through his veins. He groans as he lurches up, silencing Ritsu with his mouth hot against his, tasting his own blood on Ritsu’s tongue as much as Ritsu must be able to taste _his_ , and his cock, dripping, aching, rubs against that tight hole. 

 

Oil—that’s _somewhere_ , right? Izumi fumbles for it blindly in the blankets and furs, comes up with a bottle a few seconds later, and tips it over his cock, unable to wait any longer when he guides himself inside. 

 

Ritsu’s murmurs and growls falter into a purr, rumbling so hard it vibrates through both of them. “In me,” he urges, not bothering to retract his nails, scoring bloody furrows down Izumi’s back. “In me, in me, if you need—anything you need, I’ll let you do that, isn’t it good? Nice and sweet and tight, right?”

 

Izumi nods mindlessly, panting as he rocks in slowly, muffling a groan into Ritsu’s neck as he sinks in to the hilt. It’s slick, achingly tight, hot and squeezing around his cock in a way that makes him shudder. “You’re _so_ tight,” he breathes, nuzzling up underneath Ritsu’s chin, sucking softly on the arch of his throat as his knees slide up closer. “Ritsuuu…ah, _fuck_ …” 

 

“Perfect.”

 

Ritsu grabs at Izumi with shadows and spirit as much as his hands, pulling him in deeper, eyes closed to let him savor it even more. The sensation of being so properly _full_ is a good one, far better than he’s had for so long. He loves Mao, _loves_ him, but this is the kind of thing he’s always preferred deep down. Izumi is his favorite snack, the tastiest thing he’s nibbled on in a decade, something he wants to grab and keep _close_. “Stay,” he breathes, squeezing down on Izumi’s thick cock.

 

Izumi’s eyes roll back as Ritsu squeezes around him, and his hands drag up, grabbing at Ritsu’s hips, yanking him down as he thrusts in, harder, deeper. “D-don’t—ask me that, right now,” he pants, his teeth nipping at Ritsu’s throat, his cock twitching inside as his hips roll, barely pulling out each time he moves. “Just—let me take care of you…okay?”

 

Ritsu can hear Izumi’s real objection— _don’t ask me or I’ll agree_ —and it makes his inner monster growl in pleasure, sinking his nails in to keep Izumi where he is—where he _belongs_. Each press of that thick cock against his insides makes him whine, his body rousing to Izumi’s, hungrier for being fed. “Do whatever you want,” he breathes, reaching a hand up to toy with his own nipple. “It’s…so good, so good when you do…”

 

Izumi drags a hand back up through Ritsu’s hair, hauling him up into another kiss when he grinds in deep, the sticky-slick slap of their skin echoing in his ears. The stretch around his cock makes him shudder, his fingers curling against Ritsu’s scalp, against the bed where he braces a hand. “You’re so—fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, cutting himself off by sucking Ritsu’s tongue into his mouth. 

 

The nails in his back make him arch down, trapping Ritsu’s cock between them as he rocks in, thrusting up as he tugs Ritsu down onto his cock. The achy little spasms around him make Izumi’s breath catch. “When’s the last time…someone took care of you like this, huh?” 

 

“L-long time,” Ritsu admits, just before he lets out a breathy cry, back arching high, squeezing down so hard against Izumi that a lesser man might have pulled out, but Izumi can take it, Ritsu knows that deep down. “Like that, just like that, _just like that!_ Nnh, you feel it, make me feel it—“ 

 

He lurches up, sucking on Izumi’s tongue, deliberately slicing his own tongue open on his fangs, letting the blood flow into Izumi’s mouth, bright and dark by turns.

 

The taste of Ritsu’s blood on his tongue makes something _snap_ within him. 

 

Izumi shifts, grabbing at Ritsu’s wrists, slamming them down to the bed, pinning them above his head as he fucks in hard, shoving past the squeeze of those muscles around him to fuck him _._ Blood drips from the corner of his mouth as he sucks on Ritsu’s tongue, the taste of it making him groan and pant, with each snap of his hips taking more of his breath away. 

 

Sweat splatters down from his hairline, and Izumi bites back the breathy, rasping grunt that steals from his lungs when he spills, pulsing inside long and hard, leaving Ritsu slick inside. He breaks away from Ritsu’s mouth, panting hard, skin flushed and eyes dilated. 

 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” 

 

Ritsu’s voice is a breathy moan, from the depths of his pleasure-addled mind as he writhes slowly, savoring the thickness of Izumi inside of him, eyes lidded as he watches Izumi lick up every drop of spilled red. “It’s different when you really let go, right?”

 

Numbly, Izumi nods, slowly slumping forward to bury his face back down into Ritsu’s neck. He releases his wrists, nuzzling up to his ear, absently nipping at the lobe of it until he tastes blood again, and runs his tongue up over his teeth, curiously prodding. “Ow,” he murmurs, poking at something sharp—his own teeth, apparently, which makes him sit up and run his thumb over in turn. “Oh. Dunno if I like that,” he mutters, his brow furrowed.

 

Ritsu’s eyes flash, and he strokes almost mechanically up and down Izumi’s back. “That’s precocious of you,” he murmurs, sitting up with him, looking at those cute little points. “You really do need to stay up here for a while, when everything is done blowing up. It’ll be good for both of you.”

 

“No, no way,” Izumi grouses, poking at one of the fangs unhappily. “I have my post, you know—my duty to the king isn’t something I can blow off. How do I make these go away? Are they ugly? Or really obvious?” 

 

“Rude, are _my_ teeth ugly?”

 

“No, but—they suit you! It’s sexy on you. I’ve got a different image to maintain.” 

 

“You’re in the Shadowlands, you know. This isn’t the best place to talk about pointy teeth being weird.”

 

“I don’t want to look like a literal snake! Am I going to get scales? Do these things put out _venom?”_

 

“Oooh, that would be so cool! Ah, I doubt it, though. That’s not very…heal-y. If anything, they probably put out antidote, I’m gonna milk you and bottle it.”

 

Izumi’s face flushes, and he smacks at Ritsu’s shoulder as he pulls away huffily. “Don’t say things like that. It makes me hard again and that’s not helpful, especially when I don’t know why.” 

 

“Are you…” Ritsu narrows his eyes. “Are you horny for being a snake, or for being milked? I can talk to you about the first one, but we’ll have to call Tsukasa up here for the second one…”

 

“I just said I don’t know why!” Izumi groans, rolling away and into a ball, offering Ritsu his back. “Why don’t I get venom,” he sulkily says. “I’m a knight. I’m supposed to kill things. Why can’t I kill things by biting them, too?” 

 

“What if you drop your sword?” Ritsu points out smugly, poking at Izumi’s back. “What if you get taken prisoner and some guy’s gonna mess you up and you have to chew through your ropes? Bet you’ll want fangs then. Besides, they’re probably retractable, stop whining. Waahh, waaah, I hate being special and having powers the average knight could never dream of, I want to be normal and breakable and die early! That’s what you sound like, that voice I was doing.”

 

“I like the healing part for _myself_! I just—look, I don’t want to be relegated to _the_ healer,” Izumi exasperatedly says, swiveling his head back around to glower at Ritsu. “Everyone knows about it now, and already assumes shit about it. Try being the Captain of the Kingsguard when people scoff at you and say ‘but I thought you were just the king’s healer.’ I didn’t train for years to be known for that. You’re lucky, everyone knows you’re capable of blowing them up _and_ biting them _and_ stabbing them.” 

 

Ritsu snorts, then crawls closer, sitting firmly on Izumi’s side. “You don’t get it. I had to reinvent myself so many times. And you can, too. You just…disappear for a while. Come back as someone else that no one knows. Tell them the stuff about yourself you want them to know.”

 

“You weren’t _sworn_ to anyone.” Izumi twists around, frowning at him. “You didn’t have a king, a lover. Could you honestly say you could do the same now, when you have Mao?” 

 

“Sure! It’s easy.” Ritsu concentrates for a moment, and the shadows writhe around him. Bones crack and grind against each other for a split-second, and then someone else sits on top of Izumi, looking _nearly_ the same, but cheekbones slightly higher, chin slightly more pointed, nose a smidgen longer, forehead a touch broader. The eyes are the same, but everything else shifts just enough to not really be Ritsu anymore. “Prince Ritsu disappears,” Ritsu says with a shrug, tossing his hair back, as it lightens to dark brown. “Uhhh now I’m a merchant from the South, been traveling through the Sandlands for a while. I’ll comfort Mao while he grieves the loss of his love or whatever.”

 

“…That’s fucked up,” Izumi bluntly says, shoving Ritsu off of him. “I couldn’t do that to Leo. I couldn’t do it to Arashi, either—to my mother. Maybe it’s different for demons, but _I_ can’t.” 

 

“…Fair enough.” Ritsu flops happily down onto the bed, then sighs. “It’s gonna hurt to put it back. Tell me if I don’t do it right, okay?” His face rearranges, into the Ritsu Izumi is more familiar with, wincing and hissing a little. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow. Is my nose right? Also, you’re dumb, I’d _tell_ Mao what I was doing.”

 

Izumi spares him a quick glance, then sighs, looking back at him more thoroughly. “It looks right. Does shapeshifting really hurt that much?” he curiously asks, reaching out to poke one of Ritsu’s cheeks. “I feel like I’m too recognizable. I couldn’t just disappear and change everything like you can, even if I wanted to—which I don’t.” 

 

“You’re famous,” Ritsu corrects, submitting to a poke. “That’s not the same thing as being recognizable. Cut off your hair, change your clothes and the way you talk, and your own mother won’t know you. Just saying, if you ever need to. And _yeah_ , shapeshifting is awful. It was easier when I was younger and my bones were…bendy. I don’t do it often enough for it to get easier.”

 

“I don’t want to cut off my hair, it’s pretty,” Izumi huffily mumbles, squishing Ritsu’s face between his hands in his irritation. “I want to go back to being human. _Just_ human, maybe with a little bit faster healing than anyone else. Is there a way to do that?” 

 

“Not with just a little,” Ritsu says, amused. “But…I think it’s possible to cut the demon out. You have to do it completely, but yeah. You’d be just human. You don’t want to, though.”

 

“You don’t know that. I like being normal; it was a lot simpler when I was, and I had far fewer rumors floating around in the Capital, which I prefer.” 

 

“No, I just mean you don’t want to do it because it is…not…a pleasant experience. I mean, you’d probably die.”

 

“Ah. Yeah, I don’t want to die, you’re right about that.” 

 

“Also…” Ritsu rolls onto his side, blinking slowly at Izumi. “You’d probably have to fight him eventually. I knew a guy who cut out his demon, the demon didn’t like being separate and kept stalking him, trying to get back together.”

 

“Being a demon,” Izumi slowly says, staring at Ritsu, “sounds absolutely ridiculous.” 

 

Ritsu yawns. “I dunno. Don’t have anything to compare it to.”

 

“I do. I’m telling you, it’s ridiculous.” Izumi rolls back over, flattening Ritsu down to the bed. “Tell me more about it. What’s it like being a child up here? Did you have to run away from your mother so she wouldn’t eat you or something?” 

 

“I would have, but my brother…” Ritsu’s face turns into a mask, and he looks away, eyes suddenly dull. “I don’t want to talk about that. Being a child up here is pretty brutal. We had a lot more siblings back then.”

 

“Then…why do you like to stay here?” Izumi reaches up a hand, running his fingers over Ritsu’s cheek. “You’re obviously happier down here than you are in the rest of the human world, but if you can’t even talk about when you lived here before…”

 

Ritsu grabs Izumi’s hand, pressing a kiss to it, eyes hooded. “Don’t you get tired of pretending to be something you’re not?” he finally asks. “Don’t you get sick of pretending you’re as bad at things as they are, just so they don’t get scared? Don’t you get sick of being stared at like you’re going to eat their children? Even if you haven’t done that in a _really_ long time?”

 

“I mean—wait. Hold on, you eat children?” 

 

“Not _anymore_ , aren’t you listening?”

 

“I…right, I’m just going to…ignore that, then.” Izumi hesitates, his thumb running over Ritsu’s lower lip. “I _do_ get sick of that, sometimes. But—isn’t it better to do something with it? You’re down here, sitting around and wasting away. You could come to the capital, be part of the Kingsguard with me.” 

 

“I was in the Kingsguard, Izumi.” Ritsu flops down onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “A long time ago. I had a king I fought and died for. At least…my friends died. I like the current king a lot, but…someone’s got to hold this place together, you know? I’m doing something important. If someone else got in charge—if my stupid cousin did, he’d legalize border-crossing for feeding on humans. The North would get hit worst.”

 

“Be both. Be in _my_ Kingsguard, and watch over the North when I can’t.” 

 

Izumi follows after him, spooning against Ritsu’s back and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “If you liked being the Demon King, you’d parade yourself around and declare that as your name like your brother does,” he quietly says. “I’m not saying you have to leave here, if you like it so much, but—Ritsu, _I_ want you.” 

 

Ritsu’s face scrunches up, and he turns around, stuffing his face against Izumi’s shoulder. “I feel better here,” he admits, the sound muffled. “Like I’m not lying to myself. My shadows are happier. And I’m important, I’m not just…his little brother. I’d be in the Kingsguard if you were the king, though. Be king in the North, I’ll be your Captain. Because I…I love you and stuff. Shut up.”

 

At that, Izumi laughs, the sound muffled into Ritsu’s hair as he squeezes him close. “You’ll start a war with that kind of talk,” he murmurs, running a hand down Ritsu’s back, petting him slowly. “If it makes a difference…I’d pick you over your brother any day.” 

 

“Good. You have taste. I’m better than him. All he can do is make trees, so what, like there aren’t enough trees?”

 

“I was mostly focusing on the part that he’s completely untrustworthy and creeps me out, but sure, we can go with the tree angle.” 

 

“He sucks.” Ritsu’s voice is grumpy, rather than angry, and he bites Izumi’s shoulder—but gently, without even his canines, let alone his fangs. “He’s always got a plan. But he’s not mean enough to be serious. So it all sucks.”

 

“The worst,” Izumi obligingly agrees, stroking his fingers through Ritsu’s hair. “Is that why you hate him so much? Because he’s…well, way more famous than you? I’m glad I’m an only child, admittedly, so I don’t have competition.” 

 

“No. That’s not why.” Ritsu goes still for a moment, then growls low in his throat. “He always hides things from me. Things I should know. He didn’t tell me about Mao, how can I forgive him for that? That’s not all of it…but it’s the most recent.”

 

“Seems like it would’ve been more helpful for you to know about Isara, honestly,” Izumi mutters, tucking a strand of Ritsu’s hair out of his face. “I think he’s hiding things from Leo, too—and the worst is that he’s got Shu and Mika in on it, too, because they worship him. It drives me nuts.”

 

“Also, he’s doing some bad magic.” Ritsu takes in a deep breath, then lets it out again. “I think it’s him, at least. I don’t know for sure. But I can kinda feel it brewing, and Natsume agrees that something really dark is going to go down around him soon. You’re going down there, so you should probably know that.”

 

“…Like what?” Izumi warily asks. “What even constitutes ‘bad magic’ these days? Everyone though the previous Emperor was just fine, so I don’t even know anymore.” 

 

“It’s—“ Ritsu huffs, pulling back to peer into Izumi’s face. “I keep forgetting you don’t know anything about magic. This explanation is going to be kinda…dense…if you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

 

“Just—try me.” Izumi hesitates, glancing away. “I don’t know the technical terms of things, but I still…know what things feel like, I guess? More than a normal human. Like when Mika is doing things, or when you are—I know what it feels like.”

 

Ritsu brushes his hair back behind his ears, frowning. Then, he shrugs. “Okay, fine, you’re smart enough. Right, so, do you know where magic, like, comes from? Not who did it first, but where the energy involved comes from? It’s been a long time since I’ve explained this to a human, so bear with me and ask questions if you get confused, I dunno what your people already know.”

 

“Up North, everyone always says it’s from your soul or something? But that doesn’t sound right,” Izumi wryly says. “Especially considering there seems to be a lot of magic users floating around that act like they don’t have one.” 

 

Ritsu shakes his head. “No, they’re right. At least, that’s where most wizards draw their power. That’s where the story comes in.” He frowns, then adds, “But you probably don’t know the story. So watch.” 

 

Shadows detach themselves from the wall, shaping themselves into gray figures, shimmering with their own internal light, narrating his story. “When the rivers were hills and turtles were barges—sorry, it’s a story for little kids, that’s how it’s supposed to go—people were just one of a bunch of races, all living in peace. Humans, drakes, dragons, demons, sirens, seraphs, nymphs, sidhe, and wraiths—yeah, wow, that rhyme really works to remember them all--they all lived in one huge city in the middle of the world. Drakes healed the sick, dragons sheltered everyone from the elements, demons spoke secrets, sirens sang for everyone, wraiths kept watch, seraphs soothed the spirit, nymphs kept things growing, sidhe gave inspiration, and humans let them feed, because humans souls and bodies are the most coveted and potent source of magical energy in the world. 

 

Everything worked in harmony until the wraiths grew jealous. See, a wraith can’t feed on humans without killing them. Demons take blood, drakes take lust, seraphs take promises, sidhe take creativity, nymphs take beauty, sirens take flesh, and dragons take newborns, but wraiths take hearts. As time uncoiled and no one attacked, humans started to resent having to give up their lives, for wraiths feed at a much higher rate than any of the others. Are you following so far?”

 

Izumi nods, drawing his knees up to his chest as he watches, chin propped atop them. “I had no idea there were so many _kinds_ of demons floating around, but sure,” he murmurs. “I’m following.” 

 

Ritsu rolls his eyes. “They’re not all demons, they’re just not human. Anyway. So, wraiths stopped keeping watch, and the humans still didn’t pay tribute, so they attacked. They drove a small population of humans into the mountains, and tortured them, trying to turn them. But instead of turning, the humans cried out so loudly for help that the seraphs heard them, and granted them special powers. It hurt them, and they left the world forever. Half of them went back to heaven, and the other half fell, giving up so much of their energy that they were barely more than wraiths themselves, falling into the darkest shadows and becoming archdemons. The humans they helped promised to protect all their friends for the sake of the seraphs, and they became the paladins.”

 

The little figures shine with a sudden brightness, enough that even Ritsu looks away for a moment. “Wraiths retreated into the Ingan canyons, and everything was peaceful for a while. Slowly, now that the humans had protectors, the alliances started to drift apart. Dragons took to the skies, sirens to the waves, sidhe to the air, demons to the shadows, nymphs to the trees, and drakes to the ice. They took their favorite humans with them, and made Skybred, Wavebred, Airbred, Shadowbred, Greenbred, Icebred, all gifted with talents and revered. But the wraiths weren’t done seeking their revenge. They were starved from lack of hearts, and mutated into something even worse. The next time they attacked, they brought fearsome creatures, capable of ripping the world in two. The paladins drove them back, but they brought more creatures the next time, and the paladins were overrun.

 

“That’s when the first wizard appeared.”

 

The little figure Ritsu summons is far smaller than the others, wobbling on trembly legs, facing a field of berserkers. “His name was Davren. Davren loved his people, and the monsters were heading for his village. He didn’t have a plan, he didn’t have any special weapons, but he walked out of his hut and faced them down, praying to find the strength to save his people. He prayed to every creature in turn. The seraphs didn’t have the power any longer. Dragons didn’t care. Demons were busy with internal warfare. Nymphs couldn’t understand the concept. Sirens were too far away. Drakes couldn’t move fast enough. Sidhe thought it was funny. So Davren cursed them all, and said he would never bow to any creature but humans. 

 

“Then he bloomed. He discovered that he had the power to use his own soul as a weapon. He faced the berserkers down, ready to die protecting his people. He slew one berserker at Dawn, and the power tore through him, making him bleed from the nose and ears. He slew three at noon, burning away most of his life force, leaving him aged and withered. At night, ten berserkers came for him, and he gathered the rest of his life. Except then his young son ran out, and Davren accidentally used the energy of his son’s life, killing all of the berserkers at once. Mad with grief, he clad himself in all black.

 

“After that, the races separated for good, each retreating to its own Dominion. Davren became the first Emperor of the Academy, which he established. The law of the Academy dictated what kinds of magic were good, and which were bad. Davren’s Law says that good magic pulls magic from his own soul. Bad magic pulls it from someone else’s soul. And neutral magic pulls it from one of the Dominions. Wizards with drake blood can pull from Ice and cold itself, nymph blood any living plants, and so on. That’s how you get weirdoes like my brother, who can do plant magic and shadow magic, we’ve got a nymph in our line somewhere. Neutral magic can make you enemies from that Dominion, but bad magic…that’s worse than murder. That’s worse than rape. It’s the thief of someone else’s soul, and even after death, they won’t be free of you. 

 

“So, yeah.” Ritsu waves his hands, and the shadowy figures disappear. “That’s why we have Dawncloaks, Nooncloaks, and Nightcloaks. It’s supposed to relate to how many berserkers they could kill with their power. Does…does any of that make sense? Did I go too fast?”

 

Izumi slowly shakes his head, his eyes a little wide, rather overstimulated from so much information at once. “No—no, I think I got all of it,” he finally says, leaning back and unfolding to lean onto his hands as he exhales a slow breath. “That’s…really interesting, actually. Honestly, I thought that wizard rankings were based on how much the previous Emperor liked you, all things considered,” he wryly adds. “So—with all of that—you think your brother’s pulling on someone else’s soul. Why? Isn’t he strong enough on his own? He _is_ the Emperor now, that should count for something.” 

 

“Not for strength.” Ritsu purses his lips, shaking his head slowly. “I dunno if that’s what he’s doing, but…anything you do that affects another human’s soul, that’s bad magic. Oh, yeah, there’s a whole part of the story about paladins and wizards fighting over it, that part was boring to me as a kid because it didn’t have any monsters or demons in it so I ignored it.”

 

“Aren’t paladins all dead or something?” Izumi deadpans. “They always sounded boring to me as a kid, too.” He sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. “Demons…creatures, I guess, is the better term? Whatever. Being a creature and being a wizard—that’s still not…one and the same, right? I remember Rei talking about it being rare for half-bloods like you and him to be wizards, and the same with his Wavebred friend. I grew up with my mother telling me to hide my powers because I was a wizard, and she didn’t want me taken away to the Academy…but that’s not the same, right? Just making sure.” 

 

“Not the same,” Ritsu confirms. “Your mom is superstitious and uneducated, sorry. But if it helps, the Academy would absolutely have come to take you away if they knew about you. Just not for training.”

 

“I’m hoping you mean the previous Emperor’s Academy, and not this current one, because. Um.” 

 

Ritsu shrugs, and starts dragging his finger through the shadows, stirring them up again. “I haven’t read his policies. Don’t care. He won’t drag me in, so, uh, yeah, I don’t care.”

 

“The Academy sounds like bullshit,” Izumi bluntly says, throwing himself flat onto his back again with a weary groan. “Uuuuggh. I wish I was just a human, _honestly_ , just a fucking human. Being in this horrible place of in-between just gives me headaches. Barring that, let me explode and destroy a city like Mika did, at least then I’m exceptional.” 

 

“Exceptional? Sure, but I wouldn’t think it would be worth being part-Ingling.”

 

Izumi rolls onto his side after a short pause, eyes narrowed. “Come again?” 

 

“Healing comes from drakes,” Ritsu says patiently. “Creatures that regenerate their own flesh all the time. Where do you think his death magic comes from? Why do you think people have always hated necromancers?”

 

“I…I don’t know. He’s human, though. Even if he’s just got a sliver of something back in there—Arashi has that, too, but he’s not that magical, not in any way beyond being hard to kill. It’s not…magic to the degree that can level a _city_. And summon _dead things._ ” 

 

Ritsu tilts his head to the side, ear almost touching his shoulder. “How do you know that?”

 

“Observation? Common sense? You’re a half-blood, so you can do a lot of magic on purpose—Arashi’s got something, I don’t know, weird? Back in there? But he can’t do anything on purpose. That’s how Shu put it to me, I guess.” Izumi shrugs. “Mika’s human. Unless his mom fucked an Ingling, which, um, sounds pretty unlikely, right?” 

 

“Someone’s had to have done it,” Ritsu says, unconcerned, and flops down, resting his head on Izumi’s thigh. “If they’re a wizard, it doesn’t matter how far back the link goes. If…if you had great-grandkids, for example, they could draw from ice and do healing magic, even if that was the only drake in them. But if they weren’t wizards, they probably couldn’t even heal a papercut.”

 

“So…what you’re really saying,” Izumi pieces together, setting his hand into Ritsu’s hair again, petting him when his stress levels start to rise, “is that no wizard is _really_ completely human. Right? They can’t be, because they all have…some kind of affinity for a certain creature’s magic, looking back. What about Enhanced? They’re just humans that are trying too hard, right?” 

 

“Yep. But uhhh, if you think about it…if we all used to live together with all the other races…it’s not really that surprising that the blood got all mixed around, right?” Ritsu shrugs. “Maybe the paladins are pure? But they’ve got all that seraph power, so they’re weird. Tasty, though, my brother has a pet paladin somewhere that he isn’t nice about sharing.”

 

“Too weird. Now I’m going to be thinking about all the weird mixes everyone is,” Izumi mutters, then goes pale. “Fuck. Arashi can _never_ know about Mika, actually.” 

 

“He doesn’t know? Then he’s dumb, everyone knows what necromancers are.” Ritsu pauses. “Then again, I really only talk to demons or wizards. Huh.”

 

“He’s really dumb _and_ he doesn’t want to know about magic. It freaks him out.” Izumi pauses, his head tilting. “The North’s got a lot wrong, too. I grew up hearing that drakes were just…the same thing as dragons, I guess? But they liked being cold. What’s the real difference, anyway?” 

 

Ritsu laughs. “Can you fly?”

 

“Obviously not. I’m asking if drakes are a _kind_ of dragon, or is this a difference like lizards and snakes? Because fuck lizards, snakes are much better.” 

 

Ritsu gnaws his lower lip for a moment, then calls his shadows again, sculpting them into different creatures. “This is a dragon,” he declares, and a shadow lengthens, a long thin tail with a spade-like tip at the end lashing, with a huge triangular head and two enormous, batlike wings, covered in scales from nose to talons. “ _This_ is a drake.” 

 

The second creature is far smaller, hardly a third the size of the dragon. It stands upright, a thicker tail clearly used for balance, lying plumply on the ground behind it. Its head is far more rounded, with slit-pupiled eyes and long fangs, but a snub nose with little flaring nostrils, twitching constantly. Instead of scales, its skin looks beaded, glittering like blue-purple ice, in start contrast to the dragon’s pure dark green. “See?”

 

“I can’t believe my mom fucked that,” Izumi mutters, shaking his head. “I’m so glad I never met my father, and that I’m beautiful, and don’t have skin like that. Also, dragons are no good either, pass on the scales. Do I know anyone that’s a gross lizard person?” 

 

“Eh? You mean, anyone whose mom fucked a dragon? Or am I missing something?”

 

“No, that’s the one. I mean, I figure anything’s possible if Mika’s Ingling-something and Arashi’s archdemon-something. I’m starting to feel like I got the long stick for once.” 

 

“Uh, yeah. That’s why part-drakes are worshipped in the North. Also, except for all the rape and kidnapping, they’re really easy to deal with? At least that’s what I’ve always heard, pretty good personalities.” Ritsu scratches his head, thinking. “Wataru’s Cloudbred, but that’s a funny term, because I’ve heard it for the descendants of sidhe _or_ dragons, because technically one is Airbred and one is Skybred, so they get confused a lot in the mythology. I dunno which he is.”

 

“Knowing that weirdo, he’s probably both,” Izumi grouses. “Does that mean Bloodbred’s something made-up and not really a thing, too? Unless you’re a Shadowbred that also slurps up human blood? I’m starting to think none of you have a very _concrete_ sorting system and that stresses me.” 

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Ritsu looks supremely unconcerned. “Bloodbred is a sub-class, not its own descendant Dominion group. Most demons don’t actually bother reproducing, let alone sexually. Only female demons who drink a lot of human blood even _can_. So, anyone who has any demon blood in them is a Shadowbred, but if it comes down through the mother’s line, they’re also Bloodbred, because female demons have to drink so much to carry to term. It’s kind of a colloquial term, I guess. Depends what your folks used.”

 

“…and you had lots of siblings,” Izumi dryly says. “How many humans did your mother slurp up?” 

 

Ritsu’s face becomes a neutral mask. “There was a different Demon King back then. She ate a village, each time she was pregnant. That’s why we’re so strong. Her first children were weaker, she only killed a few for each. For us, she stopped holding back. There are a couple of ghost towns in the Hinterlands now where all of the people just vanished one day, drained dry so we’d grow up powerful.”

 

“I’m not judging you. Just…asking.” He isn’t judging Ritsu; he _is_ judging Ritsu’s mother, just a bit, but in the same way he judges his own father, for showing up, raping his mother, and leaving her with a very troublesome son. “Sorry if I’m prying too much,” Izumi quietly adds, running his fingers against Ritsu’s scalp. “I’m honestly curious. No one else can answer my questions, or if they can, it’s all…half-truths, or, well—I’d never tell him this, but with Shu—he just doesn’t know all of it.” 

 

Ritsu lets his eyes close, butting his head against Izumi’s hand. “Humans are really young,” he says softly. “They don’t have time to learn everything. And if one person doesn’t learn and pass it on, their kids won’t ever know it. You’re asking questions, that’s the best you can do. I’m old. If I can help you out by passing along nursery rhymes and bedtime stories, that’s the least I can do, right?”

 

“You help out a lot more than that.” Izumi bends down over him, pressing a kiss to the side of Ritsu’s head. “Can I ask a really obnoxious question? At least, I think it’s probably obnoxious; every wizard I’ve ever met has been cagey about it.” 

 

“I don’t care about other wizards,” Ritsu says, happy and affectionate now that he’s being petted. “They have dumb secrecy laws, I’m a fucking prince. What is it?”

 

“What was it like when you bloomed?” 

 

The smile freezes on Ritsu’s face, then slowly fades. “Ah…yeah. I see why.” 

 

He nuzzles more into Izumi’s shoulder, and breathes in deeply. “The reason a lot of people aren’t going to want to talk about it…yeah, I get that. It wasn’t as bad for me as for most, but still.” 

 

He clears his throat, then blinks rapidly. “It starts out of nowhere. You start seeing little flashes of color. Nothing when you look right at it. Just enough to be annoying, like you’re near something shiny but you don’t know where the reflection’s coming from. Hope you like that color, that’s going to be your magic’s color when it’s mature. Then you start to feel kind of sweaty, like you really want to be out of a small room, like you’re just kind of…have you ever been nervous for no reason? Like that. But not too dramatic, just kind of annoying if you’re in the middle of something.”

 

He swallows. “Then it happens. Everything goes—well, for me it went blue, that’s my color. And it’s always a little bit different, depending on Dominion. Most people wake up in the middle of a crater of some kind. Mine was pretty big. And everything, everything even close…they were bleeding out. A thousand cuts each. For Mika, I know he released his undead creatures all over the city, I heard they declared it a natural disaster. And you don’t know about _any_ of it until you wake up, and…you know…most people are home with their families at that age. No wonder no one wants to talk about it.”

 

“…Sorry for asking—it just always seems…I don’t know, insane, that it has to be like that,” Izumi mutters, petting Ritsu’s back more firmly in an attempt to bring him back to the level of relaxation he was at previously. “Mika will talk about it, but he’s so crazy that I don’t think it’s the same level of traumatizing for him. He told me a little about Rei’s, too—is there some reason why his was supposedly so…gentle, or whatever? Or is that just another part of why he’s an asshole, heh.” 

 

“Nah, as much as I’d like to blame him, it’s because his dad was part-nymph. Or Greenbred, or Grassling, or whatever they call them these days, it’s hard to keep up.” Ritsu huffs. “My dad was no one special. Just lunch. So I’m blood through and through.” He snuggle back down into Izumi’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut to try and banish that smell, even after all these years. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if they found me right away,” he says suddenly, without meaning to. “I woke up a week later. And all the bodies…I’ve never smelled anything like that. It was my teacher, and the other students at school. We were…trying to be normal, before that.”

 

“Like battlefields in summer.” Izumi winces at that, and he rolls them, crushing Ritsu firmly to the bed and forcing him to stuff his face into his neck in the process. “Enough. I’m sorry I asked. I like your magic, it’s saved my ass more times than I can count now. Rei’s is too…mm, you know those old stories about faeries? The creepy ones that like to tempt you with a pretty face and a promise of wealth and prosperity and excellent sex? Maybe it’s just a Northern thing to warn boys to keep it in their pants…anyway, that’s what he makes me think of all the time. More recently, of course, but he’s always stressed me out, in a way. I keep having this feeling that I’m going to walk in on Leo sucking his dick one day, don’t ask.” 

 

“I mean, you probably will.” Ritsu shrugs. “My brother’s a sex wizard. Everyone is basically on his radar. But just so you know, you’re thinking of the sidhe, that’s what those stories are about. Not us.”

 

“…I dislike that. I dislike that _so_ much. If he’s a sex wizard, why hasn’t he fucked me? I’m objectively beautiful.” 

 

“I dunno. He’s dumb. You’re my favorite ice candy.”

 

“I’m also way more magical. Right? Leo’s not some secret wizard, is he? You’ve known the line of kings, you probably know better than anyone else—he’s not secretly a demon, right?” 

 

Ritsu snorts. “No way. If he has any blood in him, it’s just a hiiiiint of paladin, so seraphim-origin, the whole royal line has a splash of it. A rogue paladin was the first king, you know.”

 

“Thank the gods, I really didn’t want to deal with that. I’m already surrounded by temperamental wizards—no offense—and Leo’s already questionable on a day-to-day basis without anything extra added to the mix.” 

 

“None taken, he’s a handful.” Ritsu yawns deeply, then shoves Izumi down to the bed, curling up on his chest. “Too much talking, that’s enough of being awake for one day.”

 

Izumi grumbles, but makes no attempt to pull away. Instead, he drags up the blankets and furs, all the way up to Ritsu’s chin. “I need to get out of here in the next couple of days,” he murmurs. “So don’t sleep too long, if you want to keep appreciating my company.” 

 

“Don’t be dumb. I’m appreciating you while I sleep.”


	51. Chapter 51

Magic. _Everywhere._

 

It feels like the depths of the ocean, sand kicked up and scarring the otherwise pristine, clear landscape with its spray, when hunters have come with spears to stab and gut—or worse, with nets, to drag up from the depths and enslave. This isn’t the ocean, no matter how much Kanata wishes it were—that would be easier to process and grasp upon. 

 

The currents of magic still bear a likeness to riptides. The Enhanced human, Aida, and her magic, are a low thrum compared to the havoc she initially wrought. Kanata hadn’t seen it, but had heard it—her greeting, a taunting threat to her son, and then the expulsion of magic to follow, set off by the various traps and charms placed about the slave quarters, tearing down the walls around them, trapping countless, injuring even more. 

 

“You can’t protect them!” Aida had laughed, her Sandtongue harsh over the screams. It isn’t just screams of humans now, of the dying—but the screams of the dead, the lashing out of Mika’s magic as the protection spell he’d been casting goes awry, ripping out over the remains of the slave quarters, the attached auction house, probably even the city—and Kanata reacts, just as Shu does the same. 

 

The initial blast of magic resembles a tsunami, set off by the ground’s rumbling, and seems like nothing but a wave of dead, wailing spirits, cascading towards them in ghostly white and violet light. Kanata grabs for Chiaki, hauls him back from rushing forward, the initial barrier that he himself throws up cracking like glass with the first strike of some ghastly dead thing surging against it. Kanata’s teeth grit, and he shoves a long-nailed hand against it to brace it, the surge of physical contact lending the magic its strength to keep from dissolving further underneath not just Mika’s out of control necromancy, but…Shu, reactive and _panicked_. 

 

“Don’t…pull away from me,” Kanata breathes, eyes narrowed in concentration to keep the barrier strong around them while the other magic still seethes in the air, rushing by in long, swift courses. His other hand clamps around Chiaki’s wrist. “Just wait. It has to die down, or we can’t help anyone.” 

 

Captain Chiaki, decorated with nearly a dozen medals of valor earned in combat, veteran of war and scrimmage and incursions, does not like fighting. The smell and sound of battle make him sick, the sight of fearful faces turning his stomach and squeezing his heart. The middle of a battle is the last place he wants to be, but his hand falls to the hilt of his sword nonetheless. He struggles under Kanata’s hands, knowing they’re stronger than his own muscles, determined to try. “There are—kids in there,” he grunts out, face frantic. “I can dodge, I’ll be safe, I can’t wait to save them!”

 

“ _You’ll die._ ” It’s a sharp snap of a warning, the usually slow, breathy way that Kanata speaks fluttering away with a shrieking spirit that flies past them. “And then I’ll die. _Wait_.” 

 

A child screams, and tears streak down Chiaki’s face. Regardless of the warning, he strains against Kanata’s hands again, yanking at his clothes. “Please, please, let me go, Kanata, _please_ —“

 

Kanata hisses through his teeth, frustration creasing his brow before he yanks Chiaki closer, the bubble of magic around the two of them popping, then reforming around Chiaki with a strange, wobbly movement. “Go,” he says, releasing him to hastily turn and slice through the ghost that heads immediately straight towards him with long nails. It splits in half around him, only to reform behind him and continue on whatever course it had in mind. “But don’t linger. I have to find Shu— _Shu!!_ ” 

 

Chiaki sees Shu’s pink hair as he darts out, and ignores it. Shu is a good friend, but he’s grown, and powerful, and doesn’t need Chiaki nearly as much as the children do. His sword flashes out, carving directly through a hungry ghost, with absolutely no effect. Undeterred, Chiaki simply grabs a small child around the waist, then dashes out of the storm, setting the boy down under a stone outcropping. “Stay here,” he shouts over the magic, taking a hit on his back from something hard as magic whips through the air, raking at reality itself. “I’ll be back!”

 

Shu tries to hold it together.

 

He doesn’t spare a look to the side for Kanata, his dear friend, struggling to get to him. He doesn’t spare a look to Cupcake the Snog, slammed against a rock wall after he’d bit that horrible woman, trying to stop her from getting at her son. He doesn’t even spare a look for Rei, whose presence he feels like something physical, pressing on his spirit. 

 

Because if he looks up in the slightest, they’ll all die.

 

Mika’s spell was powerful, but now, with it ruined, his concentration in tatters, his seal evaporated, his magic is _free_. The only thing keeping the rampaging ghosts from destroying the entire country, killing everything the touch…is Shu. His face is set in grim concentration, eyes hard and determined as he raises his hands. His own seal is gone, discarded as useless in the carnage, and he faces the whirling, destructive terror of death, and _holds it in_ , containing it to a hundred square feet of rampaging cyclone, bordered only by Shu’s iron will. The ghosts scream and tear at him, opening bloody wounds in his spirit and body, but he ignores them, hands steady as rocks.

 

_Chiaki will be safe, Chiaki will be fine, I’m protecting him, there’s nothing else I can do_ , Kanata firmly tells himself again, no matter the panic that rises like bile in the back of his throat when he sees those ghosts brush against Chiaki, _feels them_ , deep down in his own soul. He sucks in a deep breath and rushes forward, clawing his way over and around a shattered wooden door, picking his way up over stones at a frantic speed that leaves his hands bloody. 

 

“Shu— _Shu_ —“ Kanata stretches out a hand, and with it, long tendrils of magic, desperate and glimmering pearlescent in the tornado of dead things. The ghosts run into it, but can’t seem to eat it, and that’s a relief when those tendrils wrap their way around Shu. “Draw on mine!” he shouts. “If there’s—if there’s both of us, maybe—“ 

 

Shu doesn’t hesitate, drawing on Kanata’s magic immediately. At least, he tries—only to slam into a magical wall, shut in his face, keeping him out.

 

“Here, my friend!” A hand catches Kanata’s other arm, strong and cool, and then Wataru somehow reaches Shu’s hand, joining the three of them all together with a fierce clasp, his hair whipping dangerously in the winds. “Take it through me!”

 

For some reason, Wataru doesn’t have that wall, and magic floods into Shu, bolstering his reserves, both water and air propping up his spirit, driving the ghosts back. “It’s working,” he whispers through gritted teeth, eyes wide open and streaming tears, not daring to falter even for a second.

 

Kanata clings to Wataru’s arm, nails cutting into his flesh as he holds on tight. The wind rips out the tie to his hair, sending it whipping back as the ghosts shriek and snarl, mindless in their attempts to claw at the three of them, but no less vicious for their attempts. 

 

“Master!” 

 

Kanata’s head snaps up, and the sight of Natsume, nearly blown to the side with every single step he takes, clawing his way towards them, teeth gritted, eyes bright, comes into the field of his vision. “Lord Shu! _Here_ —“ 

 

The extension of Natsume’s magic is brilliantly hot, glowing red and gold as it snakes its way towards Shu. “We have to snap Mika out of it!” he shouts, throwing himself forward to cling to a crumbled bit of stone wall so that he isn’t simply swept away. “Lord Shu, can’t you—“ 

 

_He’s dead._

 

It’s Rei’s voice that reverberates through Natsume’s mind—and the others’ as well, by the look of recognition on their faces. Natsume’s own expression falters, only for his eyes to snap wide with surprise when it’s his magic that Rei gloms onto, using it as an anchor in lieu of distracting Shu by pulling upon him. His grip loosens, and that’s enough for a ghost to slam into him and rip him away into the wind with a yelp of surprise, only for him to be caught by a lean, pale arm about his waist as Rei is suddenly _there_ , eyes glittering, his own nails cutting into the nearest bit of broken wood that he can hold onto. “You can’t put a seal on a dead wizard,” Rei shouts over the cacophony, crushing Natsume to his chest. “You have to banish it—he’s _gone_ , Shu!”

 

Everything in Shu’s mind goes silent.

 

_Dead_?

 

No.

 

No, Mika couldn’t be dead.

 

Mika is his responsibility.

 

_Dead_?

 

What did Rei mean?

 

Oh.

 

Perhaps he means that sudden gaping hole in Shu’s soul. 

 

It makes sense. If Mika were alive, his spell would have taken by now. 

 

In hindsight, it seems obvious.

 

Well.

 

There isn’t much use in the world continuing any longer.

 

Wataru’s hand grabs Rei, steely as a vice, tucks him and Natsume under one arm, Kanata under the other. His fey, immortal eyes are stark, face white in horror as he yanks them away, taking to the air with each of them in hand, warning everyone else in the vicinity with a terrified, psychic burst.

 

_RUN!_

 

“Shu—no! _No!_ ” 

 

The amount of effort it takes to rip himself out of Wataru’s hold dislocates his shoulder, and leaves Natsume clinging to Wataru’s neck, frantically grabbing on as Rei wrenches himself away, black, leathery wings unfurling from his back as he dives away from him, hurtling straight back towards to the ground. Rei stretches out a hand, rays of shadow whipping out from his fingertips, reaching out desperately to grab onto Shu and wrench him away from Mika’s body, from the middle of the ghastly tornado around him, but before a single shred of magic can reach him and tear him away, maybe even stop him— _Shu, no, no, no, please, love, don’t do this, listen to me, please don’t!_

 

The moment freezes, as if one second lasts a year. Shu doesn’t breathe. In an instant, he opens an unrestricted channel to Rei, revealing what Rei has always assumed, but never had confirmed, exactly what that golden eyeball had been from the beginning, and the hole it leaves behind.

 

How does one live, when part of his soul has simply been ripped away and destroyed?

 

But—

 

There’s still _Rei_.

 

That tiny glimmer of love is all that stops Shu from leveling all of the Sandlands. 

 

Time speeds up, and Shu grabs Rei’s hand, eyes flashing, as a splitting boom cracks the air, and his magic simply explodes.

 

“No!” Natsume’s shriek is barely audible over the enormous, pink-violet explosion of magic that follows, his hands tight around Wataru’s neck as he clings there, trembling from head to toe. “ _No_ —Wataru, let me go, we have to—we _need_ to—“ 

 

The entire world seems to erupt in pale blue. 

 

The color is blinding, filtering over the pink of Shu’s magic, the shadowy filaments of Rei’s, the remaining slivers of ghosts, floating about and howling, and Natsume has to look away, breathing hard. “W…what…what is that?” he whispers, the _noise_ coming to an abrupt stop. 

 

“Wataru. If you don’t put me down,” comes Kanata’s very quiet, very dangerous warning, “I will pull the sea from the sand and drag us under.” 

 

Wataru nearly _drops_ Natsume, so startled is he at the eruption of a magic he hasn’t seen in a long, long time. He sinks down, feet brushing the ground, releasing both Kanata and Natsume, though his arm still curls around Natsume’s waist. “Preservation,” he whispers, eyes wide. “By all the stories and lies, it _can’t_ be—“

 

Shu collapses into Rei’s arms, shudders once, then goes still.

 

The look on Rei’s face is one of a man that honestly cannot believe he still lives and breathes as he clutches Shu to his chest, wings curled around him with the sharp, bony points of them dug down into the sand as if creating a barrier. 

 

Kanata hits the ground running, darting through the smoking rubble with far more speed than he’s ever shown before, and launching himself full-body at Chiaki, throwing his arms and legs about him with a shuddering breath. 

 

“Preservation,” Natsume quietly echoes, latching himself to Wataru’s sleeve, lingering a step behind him to partially hide behind him. “What…no, who? None of _us_ , so—“ 

 

Half-buried in sand, clothes tattered and hair thoroughly askew and singed, Mika coughs and twists where he lays, trembling as his mismatched eyes slowly crack open. 

 

A hissing, spitting cry splits the air, and then suddenly the half-crushed form of a bat wrenches itself free from where it’s been pinioned, bleeding horribly from a wing that hangs by a fragment of bone. With another scream, it twists and crunches into the form of a half-dead Ritsu, staggering forward until he launches himself into that expanding blue glow, shuddering as his body starts to heal, bones re-knitting, flesh melting back together. “Izumi!” he yells, red eyes wild. “Someone—find Izumi! It’s him!”

 

“Ritsu? _Ritsu!_ ”

 

It’s Ritsu’s voice that makes another familiar face lurch up from the rubble, this one of a verywind-tousled, dirt-smudged Mao, his own eyes as wide as saucers as he stumbles out from the mess. He spares a quick, hesitant glance back at the veritable pile of slaves he leaves behind—all collected before the blast for an escape, now huddled in terror, wide-eyed and uncomprehending—before he lunges forward, grabbing onto Ritsu with all of the strength left in his body. “You’re here,” he manages, somewhat in awe, before forcing himself to snap out of it with a full-body shudder. “Sena—he was at the back of the auction house when this started—I need a wizard to help, I can’t seal him down myself.” 

 

Ritsu’s whole demeanor changes. He smoothes down his hair, face crumpling, and in a heartbeat, he goes from wild prince of a savage realm to someone barely holding it together, a young man who needs help to stand after all his injuries. He hangs from Mao’s neck, trusting and shivering. “I’ll protect you,” he promises, pressing bloody-lipped kisses to Mao’s cheek. “I’ll be your wizard, I’m good at it.”

 

“I will pet you _so much_ after this, okay?” Mao promises on a ragged laugh, wrapping his arms around Ritsu to push him back towards that blue glow, not entirely understanding it, but certainly not trusting that Ritsu is _fixed_ yet. “Are you still hurt? Bleeding? Stand up straight, I’m not going with you if you’re not okay. Keito, sir?” he calls out, whipping his head around. “You okay back there? I’ll handle this, if you can do rounds on checking on everyone else!” 

 

“I’m fine! I just—Rei! Rei, can you hear me? Go, I’ll handle things here,” Keito promises, checking bodies for wounds, performing triage on the worst-injured, though he soon stops that and starts excavating, as every wound in the surrounding area seems to be healing itself.

 

Ritsu sucks in a bit of that blue glow on purpose, his arm giving an audible _slurp_ sound as it pops back into its socket. “I’m fine,” he assures Mao, clinging to him even so. “Take me to Izumi, he’s the one…doing this.”

 

“That was really disgusting, thanks,” Mao manages, and gives up trying to walk with Ritsu attached to him. Instead, he simply hefts him up into his arms, stumbling a little in the sand as he takes them back further into the blindingly blue light, past the forms of adults and children alike, clinging and crying to one another from a mix of relief and fear. “How is this _Sena?”_ he whispers. 

 

“He’s blooming.” Ritsu wipes his hand down his face, smearing blood and sweat. “He’s a wizard now. I haven’t seen an Icebred bloom, uh, ever, but can’t you feel it? Shit, can’t you _taste_ it? Izumi! Izumi, it’s all right! Come out, can you—can you hear me? Wow, you got strong.”

 

“I don’t make a habit of tasting Icebred like you, you know,” Mao says with a grunt, but the closer they get to the source, the _colder_ it gets. Ice starts to almost immediately crystalize on the ends of his hair, freezing sweat before it can trickle down his face. “If this is a blooming, where are the dead?” he groans, tripping over a fallen piece of wood buried into the sand with a yelp, and drops Ritsu in the process, a spray of sand that mostly appears to be ice crystals following. 

 

One cold, pale hand shoots out, and immediately grabs Ritsu around the ankle.

 

Tucked back behind a pile of white stone rubble far larger than him is Izumi, wide-eyed and trembling as he remains partially curled up, magic leaking from every single pore. “Ritsu,” he whispers, voice hoarse, his eyes brilliantly too-blue, pupils slitted. 

 

Ritsu drops down to kneeling, grabbing Izumi’s hand with both of his own. An icicle freezes on the tip of his nose, and he ignores it, though his body warns him it’s been too long since he’s fed, that there’s no way he could possibly survive this kind of thing after all he’d spent on the ride from the Shadowlands. “You’re fine,” he whispers, squeezing Izumi’s hand, crawling even closer, though his skin starts to turn blue. “You bloomed—you saved everyone, all right? You saved everyone, you can go to sleep.”

 

“Ritsu—Ritsu, h-here.” 

 

Teeth chattering, Mao claws his way up to his knees, ripping a dagger off of his hip to swiftly slit his own wrist. It almost immediately heals, and he curses, doing it again and lunging forward to shove it right underneath Ritsu’s nose. “Drink,” he demands. “Then help me—l-let me latch onto your magic, so I can s-seal him. New wizards can’t stop it, you know that, he’s g-gonna kill himself.”

 

Frustrated, Ritsu bites deeply into Mao’s wrist, sucking up just enough to survive—the way Mao’s skin writhes, trying to heal even around his fangs, curdles even _his_ stomach. That’s enough, that one mouthful, and he relaxes, grabbing Mao’s hand, letting his power flow. “Help him,” he whispers, eyes locked on Izumi’s pale form. “Please.”

 

Years and years of training, of sealing freshly bloomed wizards, still can’t prepare Mao for this. Izumi is a half-blood, and far stronger than any other newly bloomed wizard Mao has ever laid hands on. He can tell that the moment he reaches out and tries to touch Izumi’s arm, feeling his own skin freeze before he can even lay hands on him. 

 

Mao sucks in a breath, and instead, draws the sigil of sealing in the air rather than against Izumi’s skin. It flares to life with the backing of Ritsu’s magic in the air, glowing dark red before it surges forward to bury itself into Izumi’s chest, tamping down on the source of his power, directly over the thud of his heart. 

 

The unexpected kickback makes Mao gasp when Izumi’s magic flares, bitterly cold, making him see stars as it surges one more time, knocking him flat to the ground again before sucking back into his body like a tide receding all at once. Izumi says nothing, does nothing except go as limp as a ragdoll, eyes glazed as he sinks down to the sand, breathing shallowly. 

 

“Did..did it work?” Ritsu whispers, eyes locked on Izumi. The icicle falls from his nose, reacting suddenly with the heat of the Sandlands, and he surges forward, stroking Izumi’s cheek. “He’s all right, right? He’s—he’s fine? Tell me he’s fine, you’re so good at it, right?”

 

“The magic’s stopping,” Mao breathes, wincing as he picks himself up, feeling very much like he got kicked in the chest by a horse. “I’m good at it, don’t worry—he’s fine. He’s just—he’s got to rest for awhile, or he’ll be in trouble. We’ve got to get him to the Academy, where he can be monitored, and we can get his magic under control…fuck,” he groans, collapsing back down. “That _hurt_.” 

 

Ritsu finally rips his eyes away from Izumi to check on Mao, sucking in a deep breath, trying to kick his thoughts into normalcy. “Find…ugh. Find my brother. He’ll know what to do with a blooming Icebred. Are you sure you’re all right?”

 

Mao nods, shaking himself off after another moment of shivering, relieved that everything is starting to warm back up to acceptably deplorable Sandland temperatures. “I’m fine,” he promises, straightening back to his feet and staying there this time. “Just—stay with him. I’ll be back when I get someone to help.” 

 

Stumbling back towards the thick of the explosion, Mao looks for anyone that seems vaguely _coherent_. His options are limited, especially when the area is clogged with Sandland natives. “Excellency? Excellency? Gods, fuck it,” he groans, rubbing his still frost-bitten arms. “Is there a damned wizard that knows what to do with an Icebred? Whoa!”

 

Cupcake the snog lunges past him, nearly knocking him down again in the process of launching himself onto a single woman, fangs bared and dripping venom before they sink down into her throat. She goes down with a gurgling scream, flailing underneath the snog as he pins her down, spines flared out down his back—and Mao recognizes her, belatedly, as Mika’s mother Aida, healed…though not for long. “S…someone put a leash on that thing,” he whispers, sidestepping around the scene. 

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” a voice drawls. 

 

Kaoru looks ragged, bloody, and exhausted, though his posture suggests lazy cheer. The bracelet winding through his fingers drips blood, the sword in his other hand has clearly been recently used, and the way he stands is meant to suggest laziness, but is most likely a limp. “If she gets free, your master is done for. I mean, she won’t get through me, but…let’s just let the horrible beastie look after its master, hmm?”

 

Mao’s head jerks up, hand on the knife in his belt reflexively before he slowly relaxes, trembling where he stands. “Where is he? My master?” He remembers those massive black wings, curled up around Shu in a protective embrace, but now he can’t spot them in the crowd, and the pull of their oath is a dim thing. That means one of two things—Rei is far, or Rei is muted…or empty. That’s less likely, but it still makes Mao anxious. _Bastard._ “A wizard just bloomed. I need him.” 

 

“Let’s just say…” Kaoru nods at the woman, not taking his eyes off of her. “If she gets free, she’ll make trouble for him, maybe even kill him. Go find him, I’ll keep watch. And intervene, if I have to.”

 

_Paladins._ Mao’s mouth purses, but he nods, a bow of his head following that before he forces himself to make his way through the rubble and mess of people, grabbing onto the traces of Rei that he _can_ feel.

 

Muted, not wanting to be found. That’s the answer. Mao finds that out when he rounds the mess of stone and piles of sand that used to make up the front of the slaves quarters, and finds Rei there, the newly formed dunes serving as a temporary shelter for himself, Shu, and a very unconscious Mika. Rei, for his part, looks pale and drawn, the mess of his hair

singed at the edges as it tumbles down his back, and Mao bows in greeting, uninterested in crossing him. “Excellency,” he quietly greets. “I found him. I…I need help getting him to the Academy; he needs to be monitored carefully.” 

 

Rei lifts his head, long fingers drumming slowly against his own arm. “Shu.” It’s the first thing he’s actually _said_ to his bonded, and his voice feels alien on his tongue. “It was Izumi after all.” 

 

Shu lays next to Mika, between his limp form and Rei, one hand in Mika’s, one in Rei’s, his energy pulsing oddly. “Ah,” he finally manages, and doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. “That makes…sense.”

 

“There, now, all safe and sound!” 

 

That too-loud-but-still-weary voice is Chiaki, setting a small, crying child on a toppled wall, next to a dozen or so others, all of whom look shaken, sometimes injured, dust-covered, but alive. Chiaki’s shirt is rent in several places, the rags soaked with sweat, but he doesn’t falter, immediately diving back into the rubble. “If there’s anyone still trapped, call out! I’ll come help!”

 

Mao pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at the scene that Chiaki makes before looking back to Rei. “I need a wizard to monitor him,” he repeats, because it’s likely he wasn’t being listened to the first time. “Should I…find someone else?” 

 

“Does it _look_ like I can move right now?” Rei snaps, rounding on Mao in a split second, fangs out and bared. He doesn’t release Shu’s hand, and if anything, squeezes tighter. “Figure it out!” 

 

Mao hastily backtracks, not bothering to say another word, and hurriedly makes his retreat to search out someone that _can_ focus right now, and didn’t nearly have their mate die. The pickings are slim, and his choices make him cringe as he catches the tail end of silvery blue hair…and makes a choice. “Excellency? Excellency, um, I—I have a freshly bloomed Icebred and I need a wizard’s assistance, please—“ 

 

Wataru turns, startled, looking down at Mao as if he’s something Wataru has never considered before. “You are quite small, aren’t you?” he asks, sounding surprised. His head tilts to the side, and he nods, making a decision. “I think I’d like to help you. Kitten, do you want to come with me, or must you retreat to somewhere with fewer possibilities?”

 

“Huh?” Natsume’s head whips around, his eyes glassy and unfocused before he shakes himself off like a dog fresh out of a bath. “I can help,” he mumbles, still clearly not seeing much of what’s around him, in so many words, and reaches out to grab a handful of Wataru’s hair to ground himself. 

 

_Not both of them,_ Mao bemoans, but he bites his tongue, bowing his head. Wataru, at least, seems to be far more manageable than his days underneath the previous Emperor. “Thank you, Excellency. Um, this way, please—I would have asked His Excellency the Emperor, but he’s…rather preoccupied, and I don’t know how to properly transport a wizard with this sort of power, the seals are too delicate…” 

 

“That’s because they were done by a human,” Wataru assures him, though he isn’t _trying_ to be condescending. “I’ll take him off of your hands, little Enhanced.” He picks his way among the rubble, feet light on upturned stones. “Those two…Rei and Shu? They’ll need to go somewhere to heal from all of this, you know. Somewhere very safe. You seem like the kind of responsible child that takes those sorts of responsibilities upon himself.”

 

Mao hesitates, but he nods, even as he refuses to turn away just yet. “Ritsu will want to go with him,” he quickly adds, trailing after Wataru now as he has to scramble over the rocks that Wataru seems to more or less float over. “Don’t take them anywhere weird—straight to the Academy, that’s the law!” 

 

“Oh, I don’t care about the law at all,” Wataru assures him, patting Mao on the shoulder. “It’s been rewritten so many times, after all. Shall I do as I would have under Eichi’s laws, do you think?”

 

“…I’m getting someone else,” Mao wearily says, wiping a hand down his face. “Forget it—forget I said anything, I’ll handle it—“

 

“If we don’t take them to the Academy,” Natsume very seriously interrupts, clutching harder at Wataru’s hair, “that will be…very…not…good.” 

 

“Oh. All right, then, the Academy it is.” Wataru’s voice is airy and light, and he nearly glides down over the rocks, kneeling at Izumi’s side, brushing Ritsu gently away. “It’s all right, my Prince. I’m here to take him to safety.” One finger sketches a seal, which he then extends a hand to slam into Izumi’s chest, locking down every last fragile drip of magic, though Izumi doesn’t stir. “Oh, my. Quite strong, isn’t he?”

 

Ritsu looks up at Mao, raising an eyebrow. “Bringing Wataru was…a choice.”

 

“Sorry,” Mao weakly says, shrugging helplessly. “Your brother…can’t, right now, and I don’t think anyone else is strong enough, or able to move him, like His Excellency Wataru can.”

 

Natsume leans around Wataru from behind, curiously eyeing Izumi through his lashes. “He feels… _different_ ,” he settles upon, dangling from Wataru’s shoulder. “Is he going to get scales? Like a real drake?” 

 

“Real drakes have beads,” Wataru says, before Ritsu can. “Dragons have scales. He’ll probably sparkle in the sunlight, isn’t that nice? Ahhh, it’s been so long since I knew an Icebred wizard, I hardly remember how to care for one. I do hope the Academy is prepared.”

 

“If you let him turn the Academy to ice, that will be very, very bad,” Mao groans, wiping a hand down his face and smearing the dirt on it even further. “Ritsu—can you please go with him? To make sure this is taken care of properly? I trust you.” 

 

Anything Ritsu was about to say dies on his tongue, and he purrs a little, tongue flicking out between his teeth, rubbing his hair against Mao’s thigh. “I’ll do it. For you. But then…after that, you gotta spoil me for a _while_. And tell me stories about being a prostitute, I’m gonna bathe you or something.”

 

Wataru lifts Izumi gently from the ground, holding him to his chest. “Horses, I think? I doubt I have enough energy to keep flying.”

 

Izumi, as limp as a noodle, stays that way, draped in Wataru’s arms, far from waking. Mao spares him a last, worried glance before he bends to pet Ritsu’s head, expression fond. “I could have a million baths, honestly,” he confesses. “After I get to spoil you, of course. Did you ride in on a demon mare? Can you summon her, or should I?” 

 

“I can do it,” Ritsu murmurs, eyes lidding as the last of the adrenaline leaves him. “But I want you to do it. I like how you look when you do magic. Sexy.”

 

“Save it,” Mao warns with a roll of his eyes, even as he pats Ritsu’s head a last time, and pulls his hand away to fish out a summoning stone from one of the pouches strapped to his waist. He crushes it in his fist, the fine, red dust filtering away into the air that he swiftly sears a rune through. The magic burns in the air, smelling of fresh coals, and the hot breath of Bitch Two soon breathes against the back of Wataru’s neck, her low, dangerous snort following. “There. Ride carefully, and she should be able to carry all of you.” 

 

“And you,” Ritsu insists, reaching over to grab Mao’s wrist. “You’re coming, too, right? You gotta…I dunno, introduce us at the Academy, I gotta wash you.”

 

“Later,” Mao firmly says, switching Ritsu’s grip to grasp his hand tightly. “Once everything is settled here. Your brother, His Excellency Shu…they aren’t okay, and I have to help.” 

 

Ritsu huffs, and climbs onto Bitch Two, who knickers softly, leaning down to nose at Izumi’s leg. Ritsu thumps her across the forehead before she can take a chunk out. “I guess it’s okay to make sure my dumb brother doesn’t die. Protect yourself, yeah? And come soon?”

 

“As soon as I can,” Mao promises, patting Ritsu’s leg. “Take care of him. And yourself, idiot. Get some sleep.” 

 

Bitch Two leaps over the rubble around her, disappearing off through the desert while barely kicking up sand as she moves. Mao’s shoulders sag, an odd, empty feeling returning the moment Ritsu is out of sight, but he forces himself to move back into the thick of the mess. “Keito, sir?” he calls out, weaving around the odd flutters of magic that still keep flaring up like steam. “I need your input, if you have a moment?” 

 

Keito straightens up, from where he’s standing near Rei, his clothes covered in dust, looking worn and haggard. “Of course I have a moment,” he says, voice hoarse. “Why would I be busy? What is it?”

 

“…Wataru mentioned something about…Rei and Shu needing to be somewhere very safe,” Mao lowly says, sparing a wary glance over at the two of them. “But I’m afraid to try and move them. I think you are, too, if you haven’t forced the issue yet. If you think you can talk to him better than me, I’ll take over working with everyone else so you aren’t spread so thin.” 

 

Keito sags in relief, and rests a hand on Mao’s face, thumb stroking softly. “You’re a good kid,” he murmurs. “Try to organize a relief effort, I’ll deal with the powerful lunatics on death’s door.”

 

Mao wobbles a little underneath the touch before he nods, presses a kiss to the inside of Keito’s palm, then steps back with a short bow of his head. “I’ll handle it, sir. If you need anything, just call for me—I promise I won’t be far off.” 

 

“And same, if you need me. Don’t overextend yourself,” Keito warns, and takes a deep breath. “Just looking at you gives me strength. Sorry, that’s embarrassing.” He turns away, cheeks flushing as he takes off across the uneven rubble, slipping and banging a few joints before he finds Rei and Shu. “Are you alive, either of you?”

 

Rei’s eyes sharply turn, trained on Keito. His pupils are narrow, diamond-shaped, and the red of his irises is too bright, glittering as he watches Keito move, just like a feral animal guarding its mate. “We’re alive,” he lowly says, as if speaking too loudly will disturb Shu and by proxy, Mika, curled up against Shu’s side and sleeping open-mouthed. “Do you need something?” 

 

“To take all of you somewhere safe?” Keito suggests, keeping his voice even-toned so not to spook any of them. “And after that…I wouldn’t mind hearing what the hell happened.”

 

Rei hesitates visibly. He shifts where he leans, his fingers curling against Shu’s palm, as if the idea of releasing his hand is akin to being run through with a sword. “I can’t move him,” he finally settles upon. “He’s too weak. So am I.” 

 

“Ah…perhaps a wagon?”

 

“If anyone else touches him, I’ll kill them.” 

 

“Ah. So, is it that you want to stay here, outside, in the middle of a city you just destroyed?”

 

“I’m telling you the stipulations surrounding moving.” 

 

Keito looks down at Shu, then up at Rei, and sighs. “You can’t possibly think my arms are up to this.”

 

Rei’s lips purse, and he looks away, thinking, and smashing down the instinct to kill everything that moves within his field of vision. “Kaoru,” he settles upon. “If he isn’t wounded.” 

 

“Last I saw, he’s watching one of those awful spiny creatures devour some Enhanced. I’ll see if that’s…done.” Keito pauses, then adds, much more quietly, “I thought I’d lost you.”

 

“We’re not talking about that right now.” Slowly, Rei slides down, coming to rest in the sand again when his legs decide it’s much better to sit than be imposing. “Later, Keito. Please.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, then glances up through the sweaty fall of his bangs. “Are you all right?” 

 

“For a fragile human,” Keito says dryly. “I think I actually escaped rather lightly. That was, um, terrible, and I’m still not entirely sure what most of it was.”

 

“The Sena heir bloomed. And prior to that, Mika lost control, so now we all know what that looks like, and that five Nightcloaks can’t do a damned thing about it.” 

 

“Oh? I thought it was, ah, somewhat contained.” Keito swallows. “Until Shu blew up the city.”

 

“We can nitpick the mechanics later,” Rei mutters, his head thunking back against a bit of stone and sand. “Find Adonis, too. The palace will do nicely as a stay-over, so long as Kuro…settled things with the royal family as instructed.” 

 

Mika stirs where he lays, but doesn’t wake, save to more firmly grasp the front of Shu’s tunic. Rei exhales a slow breath. “And whatever you do—keep Mika’s lover at an arm’s distance. I can’t handle that right now.” 

 

“Your prince is a bit busy at the moment,” Keito informs him, taking a seat on a crumbling balustrade, now on its side. “Ah, my knee does crunch lately. By Mika’s lover, is that who you mean? I’m not a gossip like you.”

 

“The Western Lord, Arashi,” Rei wearily answers, shutting his eyes again in an attempt to crush that horrific instinct to rip to shreds the nearest thing that as much as breathes on his mate. That won’t do. “Assuming he’s stuck around.”

 

A slow pulse of love and comfort, flavored with Shu’s music, flows into Rei’s mind as his eyes flutter open. _My lord?_

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Keito answers, oblivious of Shu’s stirring. “Oh, and if you’re wondering? Your Wavebred friend and his Captain got all of the children out, no more than minor injuries to any of them.”

 

“Thank you,” Rei manages, the response at least polite and vaguely relevant to anything enough that it might sound like he’s paying attention before he swiftly turns all focus to Shu, squeezing his hand and shifting to stroke his hair with the other one. _My love—just rest, I’ll have us taken to safety soon._

 

Shu closes his eyes again, in obvious pain, He feels as if his soul has been torn apart—which, in retrospect, it has. _Hurts. Sorry._

 

“I’ll just go find some paladin, then,” Keito mutters, standing and walking off when it becomes obvious that Rei no longer cares.

 

_Relax. We’ll fix it._ Rei slides down further, curling himself around Shu, his lips pressing to his forehead. _You did what you needed to do. Mika’s alive._

 

_How?_

 

Shu’s lip trembles, and he winds his arm around Rei’s neck, feeling exhausted and empty, shaking and overstimulated, raw all over as if he’s been dragged a hundred miles naked on the sand. _I felt him die._

 

_The Sena heir._ Rei knows he’s said it once before, but Shu was far from coherent then (perhaps less now, but that doesn’t matter). Gently, Rei tugs him closer, as if moving his physical form will jostle his soul. Mika clings to Shu’s hip, still unconscious. _I don’t know what damage has been done, if any, but…he’s alive. You can feel him, right?_

 

_I think. Sort of._ There’s still panic in Shu’s mental voice, and he shivers down to his bones, though not from cold. _Not the same as before. The piece of me that was in him—I think it’s dead. Oh, gods, I think it’s gone._

 

_Shh. Shh, relax, love, that’s fine. You’re fine, he’s fine._ The twinge of pain that goes through Rei’s own soul certainly confirms what Shu feels, but for now, he needs to ignore that. _You don’t need a whole soul to survive. Even if you did, I’d just give you some of mine. We’ll smooth over the cracks and it won’t hurt, I promise._

 

_Stupid. I wasn’t—good enough, smart enough, I wasn’t enough to help._ Shu’s mental voice is tinged with panic, maybe even madness. _Never should have—too arrogant—too self-righteous—_

 

“It grows back.”

 

Kaoru’s voice is low, gentle, as he kneels down next to Rei, his eyes glowing white as he uses his Sight. “The missing parts of your lover, Rei. They’ll grow back.”

 

Rei jumps, startled when his entire focus has been on Shu, and nothing else in the world around them. His instinctive reaction is to crush Shu into his chest, fangs bared, his own body trembling from the effort, but it’s Kaoru—and so he forces himself to calm down, no matter how his nerves remain on high alert. _You heard that, right, love?_ His fingers curl against Shu’s spine. _It’ll grow back. Kaoru’s a paladin, he knows._

 

_He feels…nice._

 

“You want me to do something?” Kaoru asks softly, fingers touching the necklace hanging unused under his torn shirt. “I can maybe soothe him a bit. We’re not just fighters, you know.”

 

“…I’m going to let him help you feel better,” Rei quietly says aloud, his voice sounding strange in his ears as he whispers against Shu’s hair. “Then you can say you’ve been blessed by a paladin. When you wake up, it’ll be in my bed. All right?” 

 

“As long as you’re there,” Shu rasps, not trusting his eyes to open just yet. “And Mika, I can’t…I can’t feel him the same way anymore, you have to keep him close.”

 

Kaoru pulls the necklace out from his neckline, revealing a set of concentric silver circles, each freely moving from each other, the largest the size of his palm, the smallest the size of a thumb joint. He whistles a note, high and pure, and the circles start to spin, each at an odd angle to the one just inside of it, as he passes the gadget over Shu’s prone form.

 

Slowly, Shu’s shuddering ceases, and he falls into a deep, untroubled sleep. Kaoru lets the note die away, finally inhaling as the necklace stops spinning. “He should sleep for a couple of days,” he says, putting it away and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Ugh, remind me to keep in practice, that never used to take so much out of me. If I keep doing real paladin work, my family might actually take me back someday. Gross.”

 

“That won’t happen, not when I assert my claim over you properly,” Rei breathlessly laughs, stroking a gentle hand through Shu’s hair before he slowly pulls himself away, wincing as he climbs to his feet. “I’m afraid of what will happen if I can’t get him to the Academy sooner, rather than later,” he quietly says. “Especially when Mika wakes. I don’t trust him to be able to control his magic while awake now. Will you help me?” 

 

Kaoru’s smile is fond, but he can read the room, and doesn’t extend a hand to touch Rei, leaving his arms folded easily on his lap. “You don’t really need to ask,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “I gave you my life a long time ago. What do you want me to do?”

 

“Find someone still able-bodied enough to bring a wagon here. There’s no way I can transport him magically right now, he’s…” Rei trails off, distracted as he thinks about it and tries to put it into words, and he shivers, shaking his head. “It feels like he’s pulling on me,” he mutters. “Constantly. When he let his magic loose—when he grabbed my hand—I swear to god he sucked me dry, too, to make sure all of us would be brought down. I…” He falters again. “I know you can’t stay at the Academy, but if you would escort us, I’d feel a lot safer.” 

 

Kaoru stands, dusting off his breeches, and stretches his hands up over his head, hearing his back crack. “Ahh, definitely getting too old for this. Listen, I don’t _want_ to go to the Academy, but if you need me I’ll sit in the Emperor’s tower itself. Give me ten minutes, I’ll find you a wagon. And if not, I’ll fucking make one. Hold tight.”

 

Relief makes Rei’s shoulders sag. “Thank you,” he says, exhaling a rag

ed sigh. “I really do appreciate it. Kaoru—I’m in your debt. Do something about that at some point, would you?” 

 

“Put the tits on and I’ll think about it,” Kaoru says, giving him some approximation of a roguish wink before jogging off. He’s back in less than the ten minutes he’d said, looking satisfied. “There’s a boy with a cart, he’s bringing it by in a minute. I think you lost your _bhenda_ , by the way.”

 

“…Lost as in he’s dead, or lost like someone scooped him up off his feet and carried away like he’s been begging me to?” 

 

“That one. The prince from down here, they’re just standing there gazing into each others’ eyes, super gross.”

 

“Oh! Oh, good,” Rei sighs, relieved. “They were friends from some time ago. I’m glad they’ve reconnected. I was going to gift Souma to him, anyway, in an attempt to get rid of him. I never wanted to acquire a _bhenda_ , you know.” 

 

“Uh huh. I know how they get acquired, you know. I was there.”

 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t _hungry_.”

 

“You’re a disaster, is what you are.”

 

“Scold me more, it’s giving me strength,” Rei groans. “I should go make a public appearance before I leave—or should I? Tell me no one’s dying, and I’ll give up.” 

 

“Anyone dying is out of your control, how about that?” Kaoru suggests. “Seriously. There are lots of do-gooders out there. No one cares what you have to say.”

 

“That’s what I want to hear.” Rei shuts his eyes and sags back again, dissolving into the sand. “I’m so tired. Put me to sleep for a week, too. Don’t, not really, but I like thinking about it.” 

 

“Don’t tempt me. You’d be a lot more useful when you wake up, you know.” Kaoru dangles the necklace in front of Rei’s face. “You sure?”

 

Rei hesitates, obviously considering it. “Can you snap me out of it and wake me up if you need to?” he settles upon. 

 

The look Kaoru lives him is affronted. “Don’t insult me, I can control my jewelry. But if you want to do me a favor, climb into the wagon and _then_ let me spell you, you’re heavy.”

 

“I don’t know a damned thing about how paladins work, there are plenty of sleeping spells that wizards cast that can’t be broken,” Rei grumps. “Fine. I’ll sleep for the trip—at least some of it, so long as you can wake me up if there’s danger, and once we’re back at the Academy.” 

 

“Yes, I don’t know how I’ll make a three-day trip without the big strong wizard protecting me,” Kaoru says dryly, as a pimply teen boy leads his horse close. “I promise, I promise. Now help me get him into the wagon.”

 

“I’m _going_ to be instinctively concerned about my mate, you ass, cut me some slack,” Rei bemoans, summoning the last of his strength to carefully hoist up a very limp Shu and Mika into his arms all at once. “They can’t be separated right now,” he grunts. “I don’t know what will happen if they are. More ghosts, maybe.” 

 

Kaoru stares at the limp forms, then flips the cart boy a few coins, hopping into the driver’s seat and taking the reins. “So, fun question. What the fuck are they? They’re not bonded like you and him, right?”

 

“I suppose in so many words…it’s a very similar thing.” 

 

Rei pulls off his own cloak, tucking the tattered remains of it around Shu and Mika. He runs a thumb over Shu’s cheek before he sits back, shutting his eyes. “Shu gave him a piece of his soul. That oddly colored eye of Mika’s—I always suspected it was magical in nature, but Shu cloaked it so well, and refused to tell me, that I couldn’t confirm it.” His lips twist wryly. “I always said they were a set. They truly are, I suppose.” 

 

“Why would he do something like that?” Kaoru asks, trying to hide just how horrifying that sounds, though surely, Rei can hear how scary such a thing sounds. “I didn’t even pick up anything weird about that eye. Your bonded…he’s pretty scary.”

 

“Oh, yes.” Rei flops backwards against the side of the wagon. “He could level this entire world, I think. He wanted to.” A corner of his mouth twitches up. “I think he gave Mika that eye to…properly seal him. I’ve seen Mika’s magic before. It’s been wild, uncontrolled, but not like this. This was a different kind of uncontrolled. That’s how he came to the Academy, apparently, and Shu took it upon himself to fix that. I didn’t realize exactly how much there was to fix until now.” 

 

“And Shu…took his eye? For that reason?”

 

“His eye was already gone—sold, when he was a prostitute down here. Shu replaced it.” Rei flutters a hand. “An easy spot to hide a seal in plain sight, I suppose.” 

 

Kaoru whistles low through his teeth, urging the horse onto the main road, leaving the horror and devastation of the Sandlands behind. “Good thing he likes you, right? You want to be spelled now?”

 

A flash of movement catches Kaoru’s eye, and he turns, bracelet through his fingers before a breath passes. The next moment, he relaxes, as Cupcake the Snog leaps into the back of the wagon, spines slicking back, leaving bloody trails from his snout as he curls around Mika’s other side. 

 

“Birds of a weird feather,” Kaoru mutters.

 

Rei wrinkles his nose, recoiling from the creature. “Disgusting, honestly,” he mutters. “Shu would hate to know that thing was here. Or gods, would he, he’d probably think it was cute, too.” 

 

He drags over a few burlap sacks, fashioning some kind of a pillow to collapse back onto. “I know you think this is all dangerous and terrifying,” he says. “Regretfully, the demon in me finds Shu’s ability to wreck havoc upon the entire world very attractive. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into him again. Put me to sleep, I need to stop talking before you hate me.” 

 

Kaoru snorts, and whistles again, letting his odd necklace spin, until Rei is as deeply asleep as Shu. Only then, when he puts it away, and Rei doesn’t respond even to a hard shove to the shoulder, does Kaoru whisper, “Idiot. I could never hate you.”

 

The snog gurgles.

 

“Shut up. No one is talking to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, a part 3 is coming.


End file.
